Entwining Fates Drabble Collection
by rinsled05
Summary: Drabble collection to my Hogwarts AU fic, Entwining Fates. Knowledge of the original fic is recommended because some drabbles may have scenarios specific to the AU verse but everyone is absolutely welcome, regardless! Requests are always open, so drop me a comment if there's a particular pairing, friendship, or scenario you'd love to see in this collection.
1. Perks to Dating Your Rival

_**Author's note:** As promised, welcome to the first drabble to a collection of spin-offs from my Hogwarts AU fic, Entwining Fates! I'm still getting such lovely comments and kudos from people and I continue to be awed, grateful, and so very honoured that you've all enjoyed the fic so much. Still can't promise a sequel, but I hope these drabbles will be fun reads in the meantime. :3 For those of you who haven't read Entwining Fates, a very warm welcome! To start off, a future Victuuri scene, after all has been said and done. Please enjoy, and as always, let me know your thoughts!_

* * *

"Yuuri~"

Yuuri smiled at his reflection as strong arms snaked round his waist and pulled him against a firm chest. "Hi," he said softly.

"Hi," Viktor nuzzled into Yuuri's neck, "It's early." He pushed aside the obstructing fabric to nip at exposed skin. "Come back to bed."

"I have practice," Yuuri murmured, head tilting all the same. Viktor wasted no time in dropping kisses up the smooth curve of his neck. "For a – hnn," sharp teeth had latched onto a particularly sensitive spot under his ear, " – for a match against _your_ team, I might add…"

"Yes, yes, and we cannot wait to beat the Tengus again," Viktor gazed into the mirror, smirking.

Indignantly, Yuuri twisted round halfway. "That was a fluke – mmh!" he tensed in surprise at the kiss, before melting into the feel of Viktor's mouth moving against his, slow and languid. "Didn't you just say it's early?" he said huskily in the kiss.

"Too early for _clothes_ ," Viktor amended. Warm hands crept under Yuuri's Quidditch robes, cresting over his stomach.

" _Baka_ ," Yuuri laughed breathily, then gasped, palms slapping onto the sides of the mirror when the older man ground, _hard_ , into his ass.

"A fool who wants you, _moya zvezdochka_ ," Viktor purred, long eyelashes brushing against Yuuri's cheek. "Can we…?" Hands sank down, digging into Yuuri's hips, holding them in place. "Right here…?" Even without that heady burst of Veela charm, Viktor's voice, low and _needy_ , was enough for Yuuri to lose his mind.

"On one condition," Yuuri managed above the growing haze of lust.

"Hmm," Viktor licked behind Yuuri's ear, rolling leisurely against his backside, "What's that?"

The Seeker was working hard at turning his brain to mush, but two could play at that game. Spinning round, Yuuri grabbed Viktor's head in his hands and kissed him hard, rocking into Viktor's very blatant hard-on.

" _Blyad',_ " Viktor exhaled against his mouth.

Yuuri giggled; his lover so rarely swore that he always felt a wicked sense of achievement when he did. "Let me score a good number of hoops before you catch that bloody Snitch," he breathed into Viktor's ear.

"Done," Viktor rasped, and then he heaved Yuuri up by the waist against the nearest wall, catching his lips for a desperate, open-mouthed kiss.

That evening, Viktor made a spectacular catch to the roar of the crowd and the Siberian Sirins won the League: 240 to 200.

Hyped from scoring most of the Tengu's goals, Yuuri cornered a very willing Viktor in their shared tent to reward him thoroughly for keeping to his promise.

* * *

Translation notes:

 _Baka_ \- Idiot

 _Moya zvezdochka_ \- My little star

 _Blyad'_ \- Fuck

* * *

Extra notes:

I find Quidditch scoring highly skewed to the team with the better Seeker! Goals scored by Chasers are only worth 10 points, whereas one catch of the Snitch is worth a whopping 150 points. In other words, it's all blood, sweat, and tears for Chasers that might eventually amount to a loss anyway, so the phrase "We did our best" will probably have to be their constant mantra. For our anxious ball Yuuri to be okay with this, well. That's growth, wouldn't you say?

Viktor's Veela aura is probably also a very potent aphrodisiac lol.


	2. Skeeter's Comeuppance

_Author's Notes: The comeuppance. Enjoy, and as always, let me know your thoughts. 3_

* * *

"My, if it isn't Skeeter- _san_."

The reporter nearly leapt out of her hiding spot in the bushes.

Tall and majestic in her feudal garments, Headmistress Miyo stood before her, hands folded atop each other in a decidedly passive pose. "Good evening."

"Why are you – "

"I am here to inquire on the progress of my student," Miyo explained, lilting slightly in a melodic accent. She flashed a smile that failed to reach her slanted eyes. "If I may be honest, I did not find your article amusing."

"I did try to reach you…"

"Indeed, you did. At precisely the time when I was assisting the Japanese Minister of Magic with a bout of _youkai_ revolts in the easternmost part of Japan."

"Well he's not your student anymore, is he," Skeeter muttered after a brief pause.

"My students are like my children," Miyo's smile sharpened ever so slightly, "And I'm afraid I can be rather protective of them, regardless of their present affiliations."

Skeeter swallowed. "I was doing my job, Professor Miyo, just like anyone else."

"Goodness," Miyo laughed, and the reporter felt dread twisting her stomach like a wrung out towel at the sound. "Is that what you call it?"

"See now, you can't Jinx me here," Skeeter warned. "We're at Hogwarts, and according to the new laws decreed by the Department of International Magical Cooperation, magical schools are to be considered as neutral ground. Breaking them would mean instant dismissal – " When the Headmistress took a step forward, the shorter woman all but shrieked her next words. " – and _especially_ given your _kind_ – !"

There was a beat.

"Given my kind?" Miyo prompted, very quietly.

Skeeter dug frantically in her robes for her wand. The Japanese Headmistress's figure appeared to be wavering: a vague outline of some tailed beast forming and reshaping with every blur.

"You misunderstand," the echo of Miyo's tinkling voice sounding akin to death knells, "My _kind_ would never Jinx our fellow humans. Jinxes are beneath us for We, should We so choose, fulfill the honorable duty as servants to the Gods." Skeeter reeled back as the Headmistress began to loom large, wisps of blue fire winking up around them in a full circle. "So you see, We do not Jinx."

Nine, waving, tails snapped open like a fan. "We _Curse_."

Whipping her wand out, Skeeter opened her mouth.

Something exploded.

Then, Miyo, drawing her robes around her, vanished in a hot flare of magical fire.

Thrown from the resulting blast, Skeeter landed several meters away, hair disheveled and jeweled glasses askew. Groaning, she started when she heard the faint sound of giggling ghosting close to her ears.

"May you live in interesting times, Skeeter- _san_."

* * *

"Headmistress Miyo!" The Hogwarts Headmistress gave a respectful bow as she approached. "I do apologize for the wait; we weren't expecting you this early."

Miyo returned the bow, headwear jingling lightly. "Not at all, Minerva- _sensei_ , I quite enjoyed myself."

"Enjoyed yourself?"

"I chanced upon Skeeter- _san_ on my way to your office."

The Headmistress shot Miyo a sharp look. "Surely you didn't."

Miyo smiled beatifically.

"… How long, Miyo?"

"A hundred years."

"Well," the Headmistress sighed, "At least she'll be looking forward to death by the end of it."

"Then you approve?"

"No more than I approve of Katsuki's behaviour towards her."

"Oh," Miyo breathed, lifting a sleeve to her lips in coy delight, "I am most eager to hear about this."

Hogwarts's Headmistress rolled her eyes skyward.

* * *

Notes

 _Youkai_ \- loosely translated, Japanese demons/spiritual beings

Foxes act as guardians or messengers to a collective of deities called Inari. In the Japanese language, deities and higher level youkai may refer to themselves as 我々 ( _Ware-ware_ / "We") instead of 私 ( _Watashi_ / "I" ), hence Miyo's formal deity speak when she started transforming. Also, the more tails on a fox _youkai_ , the older and more powerful they are, with nine as the largest number they can have.

Fox fire is a real thing called 狐火 ( _kitsune-bi_ ) in Japanese.

... what was the exact curse you ask? I leave that to your imagination. ;)


	3. More than Tolerable

_**Author's Notes:** OtaYuri, in response to lots of requests for the pairing and also THIS: watch?v=KGijVRJMO3I. WELCOME TO THE MADNESS. _

_Takes place sometime in Chapter Four of Entwining Fates._

* * *

Yuri was _pissed_.

Granted, that's nothing new, but Yuri's pretty sure he's never felt _this_ pissed in his entire teen life.

He didn't even know why he's this mad; his stupid cousin had always acted so flippant about everything, like life was all fun and games even when it clearly wasn't. Yuri knew what his aunt was like at her worst – he didn't even like the woman when she was at her best – and having that Skeeter bitch come in and rub salt in an open wound was the last thing Viktor needed. Yet, his cousin never said or did anything to stop her. Even now, after Katsuki had actually done them all a _huge_ favour, Viktor just sat there, dreaming up chickens in those filthy crystal balls all smudged up with fingerprints.

Stopping in his tracks, Yuri looked around him with a sinking feeling of dread: stone walls, unfamiliar tapestries, and unknown portraits.

Great.

Now he was pissed and really, hopelessly _lost_.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance to you, milady," said the knight in the large portrait across from him. The broad-chested man pushed up the visor of his helmet, baby blue eyes crinkling into a chivalrous smile. "It would be an honour to serve a lovely princess such as yourself."

Eyes bulging with fury, Yuri flipped a finger at the knight – "Well I never!" gasped another portrait nearby – and stormed further down the corridor.

The portraits, Yuri decided, were the most useless decorations of Hogwarts, _ever_. If they didn't flirt with him, respond in riddles and songs, or remark pointedly about his school being a source for "all that is evil", they bickered with each other incessantly over their lousy directions.

("Left, I guarantee it," argued the portrait of a woman in an old-fashioned bathing suit.

"Right, I say, right is where you should turn," said the man sharing the portrait with her, huffing indignantly in his stupid looking striped bathing suit. "Women have no sense of direction."

The woman kicked water into the man's eyes.

Yuri went straight.)

Eventually, after weaving about and fruitlessly retracing his steps, he reached some part of yet another dull-looking corridor with a pile of large barrels stacked in a small stone recess.

"Ughhh," Yuri whined in frustration, hands sticking into his hair, "This stupid castle's layout is the _worst_."

"Looking for someone?"

Yuri whipped round, scowling. "Do I _look_ like I'm looking for someone?"

Dressed in Hufflepuff robes, a dark-haired boy stood before him, an eyebrow quirking in response. "Well you're standing in front of my common room."

"Common room?" Yuri glanced about, face contorting in confusion. "All I see are stone walls and barrels."

Mutely, the boy gestured at Yuri to move aside. Curious, Yuri complied, just as the boy stepped forward to tap his wand on a barrel in an oddly rhythmic pattern. And then, slowly, the barrel responded, sliding open to reveal a passageway large enough to fit an adult person.

"Oh," said Yuri.

"Yura, right?" the boy said. "We met in Divination class."

"Yuri," Yuri corrected, eyes slanting, "Only people I like get to call me that… and even then, I barely tolerate them."

"Right," the boy's lips quirk slightly. "Yuri, then."

"And you're uh," Yuri rapidly sifted through the information in his brain; the crew-cut and stoic expression was so familiar and very distinct. "Otabek?"

"You remembered."

"You were the only interesting thing in that garbage class."

"Ah." Something almost imperceptible flashed across Otabek's face, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. If Yuri didn't know any better, he might have described the expression as a (very handsome) smile.

And if Yuri didn't know himself any better, his cheeks might have warmed at the brief glimpse, just a little.

"So I know it wasn't your intention, but would you like to come in?" Otabek waved at the open passageway.

Yuri paused. It was either he returned to JJ the idiot, or to his idiot cousin, who was most likely fawning over the maybe-not-so-idiot Katsuki. It was obvious which option would give him the smallest anger migraine. "Why not," he shrugged, and oh, there was that vanishing smile again.

They talked about Durmstrang, and home, and how much Yuri missed the bitter Russian winters, because winter meant a warm blanket, a cat on his lap, and his visiting grandfather's infamous _pirozhki_ s. It was the first time Yuri felt comfortable in this strange school, in this foreign country, as he talked and just kept _talking_ to Otabek, who actually seemed interested in what he had to say.

In fact, there were no questions about his cousin, or his cousin's exploits in the Siberian Sirins, or what he was doing tonight complete with the fucking eyebrow waggle. (Whoever decided that shit was hot should have their head examined and shoved in the toilet.) No, Otabek asked about _him_ and only him.

By the end of the day, Yuri told Otabek to call him 'Yura'.

Because it's just less confusing that way, he had grumbled half-heartedly, knowing full well that he wasn't making any sense, and wishing he could just be honest with himself.

Otabek didn't appear to mind at all.


	4. Wanna Bet?

_**Author's Notes:** This is my idea of a relaxing break from all the reports for finals hell lol. Couple of folks requested fairly early on for SeungChu, so have an origins sort of drabble on how their friendship was born. Please enjoy, and as always, let me know your thoughts! :3 _

* * *

When Phichit first came across Seung-gil, his first thought was that he never met a more serene lad. The Ravenclaw boy hardly flinched when someone's cauldron exploded in Potion's class. He didn't bat an eyelid when a Howler shrieked curses that echoed through the Great Hall during breakfast. When a rat scrambled round the classroom in a frantic attempt to escape being Transfigured, it was Seung-gil who, with surprising reflexes, caught the little thing with his bare hands.

So, naturally, Phichit wanted nothing more than to ruffle that abnormal composure.

The fact that Seung-gil seemed to traverse the castle halls without companions, friendless and alone, might have also played a part.

"Hi," Phichit chirped, sliding smoothly into the seat next to Seung-gil. "I'm Phichit."

Silently, Seung-gil arched an eyebrow.

"Right, no need to talk," said Phichit cheerfully. "I can manage that pretty well on my own."

Seung-gil snorted but didn't tell him to bugger off.

It was a start.

From that day onwards, Phichit claimed the empty seat beside Seung-gil in every class they shared, chattering on to the other boy who remained stubbornly mute. His Gryffindor friends told him it was a lost cause: Seung-gil had chosen to isolate himself since the first day of school and there was no reason he would change now.

Phichit couldn't wait to prove them wrong.

It was about two months in that Seung-gil first spoke.

"All right," he whispered in the middle of a History of Magic lesson, wand tapping against the edge of his desk, "How much have you got going?"

Phichit leaned back, eyes following the wand warily. "What do you mean?"

"The bet," Seung-gil replied. "Surely you and your Gryffindor twats have got money on when I'd finally start talking to you? Start _trusting_ you?"

"Um," said Phichit. "We haven't got a bet."

"Come off it," Seung-gil sniffed. "Why else would the most popular student in our year bother speaking to me several weeks _after_ school started?"

Phichit paused, face softening into a pensive expression. He was reminded of the first time he met Yuuri: a scared little boy, sitting all alone, crying for his parents. Though kind, sweet Yuuri turned his fears inward, Seung-gil wore it outside like armour, hardened and battle-worn.

"My best mate was bullied a lot in school too," he said quietly.

Seung-gil stiffened. "Who said I was bullied," he snapped, the tip of his wand sparking slightly.

Oh hell.

Glancing at the professor, Phichit shifted closer to Seung-gil, dropping a hand on the other's wrist. "Look, no one's got a bet going, I promise. I just wanted to get to know you better, that's all."

Seung-gil frowned, though the sparks faded, just a little. "Why?"

"Why not?" said Phichit, smiling. He nodded at the professor, still droning on in his monotonous voice. "You're missing tons of notes, you know."

For a moment, Seung-gil eyed him carefully. Then, slowly, he stowed his wand and picked up his quill. "So," he said after some scribbling, "No bet?"

"No bet," Phichit said firmly.

"Hmm," said Seung-gil. He tilted towards Phichit. "Then start one."

"Start what?"

"A bet."

Intrigued, Phichit leaned in. "You _want_ a bet to start?"

"If it's on my terms, yes." The impassive Ravenclaw flashed an uncharacteristic smirk. "And I want in."

"Betting on yourself? That's cheating."

"No one has to know. Also, I believe a more accurate phrase is, 'increasing the odds in our favour'."

A grin spread wide across Phichit's face. "Our?" he asked as casually as he could.

Seung-gil rolled his eyes. "Wind your neck in, Chulanont, it's just an expression."

They won a total of four galleons and fifteen sickles.

Phichit, meanwhile, gained a new friend.

* * *

Notes

Requests are always open! Feel free to squeal with me on tumblr dreaming-fireflies. tumblr. com (remove the spaces).


	5. Insatiable

_**Author's Notes:** The end is in sight for finals hell! This drabble is in response to the request: "I want Yuuri's reaction when he first realized how thirsty Viktor is :"D". It kind of went along those lines then took a bit of turn at the end... hope that's all right. :D;_

 _As always, please enjoy, and let me know your thoughts!_

* * *

Their first time wasn't as magical as the books and movies portrayed it to be.

It hurt when Viktor pushed in; it burned when it was over; and, overwhelmed and sensitive, Yuuri had come too fast, too soon.

Even then, even after all that, Yuuri remembered Viktor's gentleness, his soft, tender whispers of, _so strong, so beautiful, my little star, forever mine_ , and the _pleasure_ that drove him so quickly over the edge when Viktor found and hit that spot in him – again and again and again.

So Yuuri definitely wasn't opposed to a second, third, or even fourth time.

After all, practice made perfect, right?

Except, Yuuri soon realized, he was about to get so much practice, he could swear that he was the world's leading sex expert by now.

Everything was a turn-on for the Russian. _Everything._

Yuuri could be scarfing down pizza after a grueling training session, drenched in grease and mud, covered head to toe in heavy Quidditch robes, and Viktor would still have him crushed against some surface, mouthing desperately at any exposed skin he can find. Since their first time, they've fucked on every surface in every _position_ : sideways on counters, standing upright against walls, hands and knees on floors...

Yuuri quickly learned to spot the sparkle of desire in Viktor's eyes, if only so he could be firmer about saying no. He always lost all shred of rationality the second those talented hands and mouth found their way on him.

And right now, that sparkle was definitely there.

"Ah-ah." Yuuri held up a finger and fixed his lover with the fiercest glare he could muster. "Not now."

"But Yuu~ri~" Viktor whined, beautiful blue-green eyes growing large with deceptive innocence, "I haven't seen you _all_ _day_."

"You were only gone for the afternoon." Yuuri gestured at the newspapers spread out before him on the floor. "And I was about to start polishing my broom."

"Mm, nothing's sexier than the smell of wax."

"You're mad," Yuuri laughed.

"Madly in love," Viktor smiled, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against Yuuri's.

How Viktor still managed to make him feel like a blushing teenaged girl was beyond him.

"I missed you too." Yuuri pressed a quick kiss on Viktor's lips. "So why don't we chat while I finish up with my waxing?"

"Very well, let us chat," Viktor stole another kiss, before settling down next to Yuuri.

Tugging his Nagareboshi into his lap, Yuuri dabbed at the wax. "How's the team?"

"Excellent. Georgi especially; his girlfriend has broken up with him again, so he's in fine form these days."

"Poor Georgi," Yuuri flashed a sympathetic smile. "How many times has it been?"

Viktor stretched his legs out, leaning back on his hands. "Three times. Mila suspects they'll get back together sometime, but we're all hoping it happens after the European playoffs… nothing motivates a Beater like lost love."

"That's a little cold." Head bowing, Yuuri began polishing the broom in earnest, sliding up and down the handle with the waxing cloth. "What about Yuri? Has he had a chance to try out for the team yet?"

"… I'm sorry, who had a chance to try out?" Viktor asked distractedly.

"Yuri."

"Oh, he's um… yes, he's had a chance."

Yuuri looked up, peering over the blue frames of his glasses with concern. "Viten'ka?" Viktor visibly stiffened at his name. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, it's just..."

Yuuri blinked, hands still working hard at the broom handle. "It's just...?"

"I tried," Viktor groaned. "I really did."

And then his mouth was on Yuuri's, hot and passionate and – god, everything Yuuri loved about his insatiable Russian _beast_.

So much for being firm.

* * *

"Have I told you how much I adore your dancer's flexibility, _moya zvezdochka_? Legs bent right down to your _ears_."

Yuuri giggled breathlessly, "I think I got the hint when you screamed, _yes oh god yes_."

Viktor rolled to his side and pulled Yuuri close. "Was it good for you too?"

"Always." Yuuri smiled into the curve of Viktor's neck. His lover smelled of musk and sweat and _wax_ , and it was still so heady, so intoxicating. "But you've officially hit a new low today."

"Well you were a _tease_ , sliding your hand up and down, and up and down…"

"I was _waxing_ my _broomstick_."

"Exactly," said Viktor, waggling his eyebrows.

Laughing, Yuuri swatted at Viktor. "Seriously, Viten'ka, _self-control_. Look that up sometime."

"Keep saying my name like that," Viktor nipped at Yuuri's jaw admonishingly, "And we'll never get off the floor long enough for me to find a dictionary."

"What, you mean like," Yuuri leaned up to press parted lips against Viktor's ear, breathing, " _Viten'ka_ – "

Minutes later, he's screaming Viktor's name for an entirely different reason.

("You're _both_ animals," Phichit concluded gleefully over their weekly FaceTime session.

Yuuri blamed Viktor – it's contagious, is what it was.)

* * *

Notes

Requests are always open! Feel free to squeal with me on tumblr: dreaming-fireflies. tumblr. com (remove the spaces).


	6. Who the hell is Chihoko (variant)

_**Author's Notes:** So I only just received the request: **"** **Omg could you write a variant of the CHIHOKO incident in the magical universe"** , and figured that now was the best time to bang that out lol. It's been slightly revised to fit into the AU, and I brought in a couple of HP characters, but I hope folks enjoy this variation. xD_

* * *

Yuuri very much liked the Siberian Sirins.

They were warm, welcoming, and even strangely pleased about his relationship with Viktor. Mila was sweetly inquisitive, asking questions about England and Japan, while Georgi waxed philosophy about love and pain, proclaiming how lucky Yuuri was to have experienced both. And there was Yuri of course, grouchy as ever, but with a somewhat softer air; Yuuri suspected a certain Kazakh had something to do with that.

When the Sirins began training, Yuuri sat at the sidelines, watching, _suppressing_ the yearning that rose up his throat as the players flew through the air, practicing their formations.

Above, Viktor gave Yuuri a vigorous wave, before tilting slightly, curling his arms over his head to form a heart shape with his body.

Oh – it's as though Viktor could read his mind.

Smiling, Yuuri returned the gesture with equal enthusiasm.

Seated next time to him, Yuri made loud gagging noises, drowned out only by Mila's delighted ' _awww_ ' in the air.

After training, the team invited Yuuri to the nearest pub, declaring that they had to celebrate Yuuri and Viktor's progress into an official couple, which Yuuri found both endearing and _mortifying_ at the same time. Especially with Viktor's gushing, extravagant praise for him, as though he were some perfect being with zero flaws – and that couldn't be further from the truth.

So he drank to overcome his embarrassment, his nervousness; he drank to feel and act normal.

He drank to feel really, _really_ good.

"Okay, okay, my turn," Mila raised her glass, swaying, "Never have I ever… had anal sex."

"That's not fair," Viktor laughed, taking a swig of his beer – or, he tried. The drink sloshed down his shirt, splashing across his pants.

"You're a mess," Yuuri giggled, snatching napkins to wipe at his lover's clothes. Damn napkins did little to soak up the beer, and Viktor's clothes were just getting more and more soaked. "Tha's not working…" Lifting his wand, he reached hazily into his mind for a spell.

"Hell no," Yuri slapped Yuuri's hand away. "Much as I'd _love_ for you to zap my cousin's dick off, I'd rather not be here to witness the screaming."

"Clearly Yura's not drunk enough," Mila cackled.

"I'm a _minor_ , you crazy old hag."

"I got this, my love," Viktor assured Yuuri. Then, swiftly, he began flinging off his wet clothes.

"Tha's a good idea," Yuuri said approvingly.

Yuri slapped a palm to his forehead.

"Do not fret, Yuri." Georgi stood up, banging his knee on the table, spilling his mead. "I think you shall appreciate this one."

"Wait," Viktor protested, now stripped down to his black briefs, "Yuuri didn't drink yet!"

"Ooh, so you _have_ had sex," Mila leaned in, grinning from ear to ear.

"Lots," Yuuri agreed, throwing back his beer, "Lots and lots and lots of sex."

"Who tops?"

"Viten'ka usually starts it, but we take turns."

"Mm, and Yuuri goes in _hard_ and _deep_ ," Viktor purred, draping limply over Yuuri like a heavy blanket, "Just the way I like it."

" _Ask your fucking question_ ," Yuri all but shrieked at Georgi.

For a beat, Georgi's eyebrows furrowed in concentration, before he nodded slowly. "Never have I ever… thought Viktor Nikiforov was a bit of a prick."

Yuri downed his butter beer with frightening speed, just as everyone on the table also took to their drink.

" _Yuuri_ ," Viktor gasped.

"Sorry," Yuuri sniggered, setting his glass down and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "I need more beer~"

"You're all jealous," Viktor sulked as Mila flagged down the server for more drinks.

"Ha!" Yuri crossed his arms. "And what exactly would we be jealous about?"

"How would I know? You lot are the jealous ones."

"I'll bite." Mila raised her hand. "I've always envied your Firebolt Extreme."

"Fastest broom in the world right now," Georgi nodded sagely, "Which makes Viktor one of the fastest fliers."

"Not true," Yuuri huffed, "The… thes… thes-sals, fly faster than Viten'ka."

"Thessals?" Mila and Georgi asked in unison.

Viktor frowned. "Who's Thessaly?"

"How the hell did you even get 'Thessaly'?" Yuri rolled his eyes. "Your idiot's trying to talk about thestrals."

"Yes, that!" Yuuri cheered. "Thessals fly way, way, _way_ faster than Viten'ka."

" _Thestrals_ , you drunk – oi, where do you think you're going?" Yuri snapped as Viktor stumbled past him out of the booth.

"Bathroom," Viktor muttered.

"At least put on your damn clothes!"

The Russian Seeker flicked his wrist dismissively.

Yuuri blinked owlishly. "Was it something I said?"

"Oh he's got the world's tiniest bladder," Mila sniffed, before she slapped her palms on the table. "C'mon, Yuuri, it's your turn!"

"Okay," Yuuri beamed. "Never have I ever…"

* * *

Everything hurt.

Everything _ached_.

And everything wouldn't hurt and ache quite as much if someone wasn't shaking him hard enough to rattle his brains out.

"Yuuri-kun! _Yuuri-kun_!"

"Stop," Yuuri groaned, batting ineffectively at the source of pain. "Stop _yelling_."

"Sorry but I _really_ need you to come with me to Hogwarts. The Headmistress is _furious_."

Yuuri bolted upright, regretting it instantly when his head _throbbed_ like one giant vein. "But I've graduated," he rasped. "I can't get punished after graduating."

"Yeah, but – ooh, just _come_."

Someone yanked him to his feet and ushered him onto a thin object – a broomstick?

"Hold on tight, Yuuri-kun!"

Still dazed, Yuuri obeyed, wrapping his arms round a small, warm body in front of him.

He was fairly certain he threw up several times along the flight, but if he did, his kidnapper didn't say a word about it. Absently, he wondered what happened to projective vomit falling at 15,000 feet; he would hate to have killed someone with his stomach contents.

When they finally landed, another voice – more feminine, more _formidable_ – roared his name, and Yuuri felt his entire body cringe.

"Yuuri Katsuki," bellowed the all-too-familiar voice of his former Headmistress, "Would you _kindly_ tell your inebriated fool of a partner to – is that a pair of _briefs_ on your head?"

"I don't have a – " Yuuri felt the silk material on the top of his head, before ripping it off in horror. "It's not mine!"

"I assure you, no one cares to know whose it is," the Headmistress said primly. "Kenjiro, couldn't you have made him decent before you brought him here?"

Ah, so that was his kidnapper. Yuuri thought the smell of hair wax was rather strong.

Kenjiro rubbed the back of his neck. "But you said _right this instant_ …"

"Surely it only takes a second to put a shirt on him. What on earth does he have on his back?"

"I think it's 'Overcome Thessaly' in lipstick."

"Who's Thessaly?" Yuuri pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing everyone would just stop shouting.

Pressing her lips together, the Headmistress grasped Yuuri by the wrist and jerked him after her, ignoring the yelp of pain.

They crossed the courtyard and headed for the Quidditch pitch, where a crowd seemed to have gathered, tittering and pointing in the direction of the North tower.

"Back to class, all of you," the Headmistress said fiercely. The crowd scattered, parting for her like the Red Sea, and Yuuri could hear the giggles and comments at his state of undress.

"Tell us all about it later, Yuuri," Leo called gleefully. Yuuri caught a glimpse of Guang Hong waving at him, before the pair left with the throng hastening away from the pitch at the Headmistress's glare.

Looming tall and broad near the tower stood the professor for Care for Magical Creatures, an amused grin in his thick beard. "Just couldn't wait ter come back, could ye?" he laughed, the booming voice reverberating painfully through Yuuri.

" _Professor_ ," the Headmistress gasped. She's gazing up at tower, eyes bulging in disbelief, "I _told_ you not to let him take one."

"He's a bloke on a mission," the professor shrugged, "Hard ter argue with a bloke on a mission."

"Who?" said Yuuri.

" _Yuu~ri~_!"

Yuuri looked up, and then promptly wished he hadn't.

It was one thing to see his lover's naked body during lovemaking. Somewhere between the raging hormones and deep, hazy arousal, Viktor looked, felt, and tasted _amazing_.

On the other hand, looking up at his lover from this particular angle, with an excruciating hangover, was possibly the most horrifying experience, _ever_.

Worse yet, the Russian was completely unabashed about his nakedness – standing with his legs spread wide; one hand on his hip, and the other with his Firebolt Extreme in its grip.

And, for no apparent reason, he had a poor baby thestral by a leash next to him on the roof, looking utterly bewildered by this turn of events.

It's not the only one, thought Yuuri.

"Thessaly may be your past, but I'm your _future_." Viktor held his broom up to the sky. "And I'll prove that by challenging Thessaly to a race for your heart!"

" _Who the hell is Thessaly_?"

"I reckon he's talkin' 'bout the thestral," the professor supplied helpfully.

"In all my years at Hogwarts," the Headmistress sighed.

"Viktor, get down," Yuuri yelled, crying inwardly at the pain shooting through his head.

"I bet you don't think _she's_ a prick." Viktor pouted, shaking at the leash, "Curse your agreeable nature, Thessaly!"

The thestral cocked its head at Viktor in confusion.

Oh for –

Yuuri breathed in slowly. "I love _you_ , Viten'ka. I have never loved anyone in the world as much as I love you." He stretched his arms out imploringly. "Now come down so I can show you how much I love you, you stupid, _stupid_ man."

"Katsuki," the Headmistress started, but the professor shushed her, snuffling loudly, beard trembling.

For a while, Viktor's silent, expression softening.

Then, he crouched down – the Headmistress turned, making a noise that sounded like a curse – and reached out a hand. "Come and show me up here."

Yuuri glanced at the Headmistress. "All right, if it's just a few minutes – "

"And I want you naked with me!" Viktor added brightly.

Within minutes, they were thrown out of the castle premises with Viktor's broom, the Headmistress slamming the heavy gates behind them with a wave of her wand.

* * *

"Yuuri," Viktor murmured against Yuuri's thigh, "Did you mean what you said?"

Yuuri scrambled off his lover, turning bright red. "O-Of course I meant what I said."

Viktor sat up, smiling gently, entirely unfazed that he was sprawled out naked in the dirt. "It's just, you've never said it before. You've said it in so many other ways, but not like that."

"Well it's embarrassing."

"Yet you can say it in front of your former school teachers?"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"How flattering." Chuckling, Viktor leaned in, brushing his lips against Yuuri's forehead. "Ah _moya zvezdochka_ … I love you."

"I…" Yuuri gazed up shyly, "I love you, too."

"Yuuri…"

Filled with affection and too bloody hung-over to care, Yuuri allowed a very naked Viktor to tug him into a tight embrace.

And they sat in the dirt, leaning against the Hogwarts gates, just holding each other for some time.

* * *

"W-What kind of lipstick is this, Mila?"

"Well I Charmed it so it'd stay on longer. Works really well, doesn't it!"

"How long does it stay on?"

"Oh, couple of hours… or days."

"Days!?"

Snickering, Yuri whipped out his wand. "Why don't I just – "

"No, don't – "

"Come, my love, I'll just print my name over it with more lipstick – "

" _Both of you stay away from me_."

"Welcome to the Siberian Sirins, Yuuri," Georgi smiled as Yuuri dove behind him, away from Viktor and Yuri's grappling hands.

* * *

Notes

Requests are always open! Feel free to squeal with me on tumblr: dreaming-fireflies. tumblr. com (remove the spaces).


	7. With every ending comes a new beginning

_**Author's Notes:** Otayuri drabble in response to these requests: _

_**\- Request! The story of how Yuri and Otabek met and became friends and where their relationship was when they had to part ways. (Friends, almost boyfriends, boyfriends, lovers..) I'd love to know.**_

 _ **\- I want to know why Yuri was nearly, or in tears when they had to leave. THANK YOU!**_

 _Scenes take place in the last chapter to Entwining Fates, during and after the Yule Ball. (I've focused mostly on the last part of the first request, so there's more to come for that one. :3) I hope it's to your liking!_

* * *

Yuri was sure his cheeks were on fire.

It was one thing dancing to a snappy jazz beat, but it was quite another to do a slow dance, bodies pressed together, warm and soft and god, just an overload of sensations.

He could hear the deep, rich tolling of Otabek's quiet laugh, smell the spicy pumpkin on his breath, _feel_ the warmth of Otabek's hands as one held his in the air, the other resting chastely on his left hip, sizzling through the thick fabric of his uniform.

He blamed it all on stupid JJ and his stupid cousin.

It's not like he hadn't considered Otabek as a romantic partner; honestly, who the hell wouldn't? The older boy was calm, rational, no-nonsense, and _cool as fuck_.

(Yuri never put much stock in Transfiguration until Otabek made his favourite Hungarian Horntail toy come alive, seconds before the little dragon sank its teeth into a screaming JJ.

It was officially the best day of Yuri's life.)

But Yuri wasn't ready for that step. In the first place, he didn't know what _that_ step entailed. If Viktor and his nerdy dancer boy were any indication, he's not even sure he could hold in his stomach contents for long enough to endure such gross displays of affection.

Naturally, as Yuri always did with uncomfortable feelings, he had shoved them down to the deepest recesses of his mind, refusing to deal until he had no other option.

And then JJ and Viktor just _had_ to shovel them right back out.

"Knut for your thoughts," Otabek whispered too damn close to his ear.

"My thoughts cost a galleon," Yuri huffed in return.

"Your thoughts are worth over 400 copies of the _Daily Prophet_?"

"Oh, right. Make that two galleons."

Otabek chuckled, warm breath brushing against skin; Yuri shivered. (Stupid, _stupid_ hormones.) "Why don't I share mine first?"

"Sure," said Yuri, shrugging, gaze darting nervously to the polished silver buttons on Otabek's military dress.

"I like you."

There was a beat – gears swinging into motion; a full process of three simple words – before Yuri's heart flew to his _ears_.

Shit, thought the Russian. Why'd he have to be so goddamn _direct_?

"I've always liked you," Otabek continued into Yuri's silence, "Ever since I saw the strength of your spirit in Divination class."

They spun round a Beauxbatons couple on the dance floor, the girl's head resting demurely on her partner's shoulder, a contented look on her face. Yuri straightened instantly, stiff as a board, head raised high and far away from any shoulder in his near vicinity.

Glancing at the couple, Otabek's lips quirked slightly. "I'm not expecting a response," he added then, squeezing Yuri's hip in reassurance. "Just wanted you to know before you leave."

As far as Yuri was concerned, the Hogwarts boy was a bloody cheater. How could anyone possibly not respond to such genuine sincerity? How could anyone pretend like it never happened?

More importantly, how could anyone _resist_?

"Ilikeyoutoo," Yuri blurted in a rush.

Mutely, Otabek arched an eyebrow.

Enunciation, articulation; since when did saying _words_ get so hard?

"I said," Yuri murmured, deliberate and trembling on his syllables, "I like you too."

And then Otabek _smiled_ , radiant as the sun emerging through a fading eclipse, and everything fell into place – what they were, what they had been, what they _would_ be, for a long, long time to come.

(Plus, he could always have Otabek transfigure Viktor into a weasel if his cousin overdid his teasing.)

* * *

When the time came to say goodbyes, Yuri couldn't stop the waves of sadness crashing through him. It physically hurt like a Stinging Hex to the chest, especially when Otabek pulled him into a tight embrace, and he breathed in the strong scents of cedarwood and leather and _Otabek_ – a scent he wouldn't, _couldn't_ , take in again, not till the holidays.

He hadn't felt this way since he first parted with his grandpapa for the start of the school term.

"We'll see each other again," Otabek assured.

"I'm _not_ crying," Yuri swallowed thickly, burrowing his face deeper into the crook of the Hufflepuff's neck.

"Of course you're not," said Otabek fondly, and the wave crested, sending a fresh outpour of hot tears.

For once, Yuri was glad that the crowds were drawn to Viktor's departure as usual. It was mortifying enough that he was sobbing like a five-year-old against his boyfriend without people's eyes on him.

His _boyfriend_.

The word was still so foreign on his tongue, but he definitely liked the look on Otabek's face when he first voiced it out loud. (Viktor had grinned so very knowingly, and Yuri entertained the briefest image of his cousin as a silver-haired weasel.)

When Otabek gently began to pull away, Yuri fought hard against the urge to protest; drag the other boy back into his hold.

"Let me know how training goes." Otabek swept Yuri's heavy curtain of hair to the side, brushing a light kiss on the exposed forehead. "My little soldier."

"Gross," Yuri sniffed. "You know I hate nicknames." Then, jerking Otabek down by the collar, he pressed his mouth against the other boy's fiercely for the barest of seconds, "And _that's_ payback for being disgusting."

Otabek blinked once, before his stoic expression split into a wicked smirk. "Then I'll have to come up with more."

"Idiot," Yuri muttered without malice, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. He shoved at Otabek's chest. "Get lost before I do anything embarrassing again."

"I'll miss you too, Yura," Otabek said with such wistful affection that Yuri had to tear his gaze away after a quick nod, or he would quite literally wrap his limbs round the other boy like an extra clingy Bowtruckle and _never leave_.

"Vitya," Yuri yelled, resolutely keeping his eyes fixed on the spectacle going on below, and not on the back of a certain Kazakh student making his way far too slowly down the gangplank.

"It's time!"

* * *

Notes

Requests are always open! Feel free to squeal with me on tumblr: dreaming-fireflies. tumblr. com (remove the spaces).


	8. Viktor in Japan: Part One

_Author's Notes: Written as part of a request:_ **And now, perhaps a one-shot of Viktor meeting Yuuri's family?**

 _I took family to include Yuuko, Takeshi, and Minako, hope that's all right. Also, some of you have made requests that work best with Viktor being in Japan, so this is part one of a mini-series of sorts. And without further ado, fluff ahoy! :3_

* * *

Yuuri's family was just as beautiful as the boy they created.

After the initial amazement at witnessing a foreigner step out of their fireplace, they warmed up to him instantly, all smiles and enthusiastic greetings. Viktor could easily see the relation: Hiroko was sweet and effable, offering drinks and all manner of snacks in an effort to put Viktor at ease; Toshiya was just as kind, though with a hint of shyness that was reflected in Yuuri as his lover told his mother to calm down with the food offerings.

Mari, on the other hand, was slightly more guarded than the rest of the family. As Hiroko tugged Yuuri into the kitchen to help with dinner preparations, it was Mari who was tasked with guiding Viktor to a guest room. Perhaps it was the language barrier, or the sister wasn't the talkative sort; either way, the walk to his room was in silence, broken only by Mari's scarcely worded guide to indicate key spots: _bath_ , _toilets_ , _dining hall_ , and finally, with a curt nod, _your room_.

It was a spacious room with a Queen-sized bed sitting in the corner, no doubt set up at Yuuri's explicit request. Viktor had told his lover time and again that he was happy to experience sleeping on the floor, but Yuuri could be so very stubborn sometimes.

"Thank you," said Viktor, bowing slightly.

Mari grunted. Then, she jerked her head towards the corridor, towards the way they came. "You and Yuuri," she said, pausing. "Serious?"

Viktor straightened to meet Mari's gaze evenly. "Very serious."

They stared at each other for several seconds, before Mari shrugged. "Okay." She gestured, "Come back when ready. For dinner."

Viktor nodded.

Once Mari was out of sight, the Russian let out a sigh of relief. That's one family member cleared – for now.

* * *

At dinner, they were joined by a few others: Yuuri's childhood friend, Yuuko, and her boyfriend, Takeshi, as well as Yuuri's dance instructor, Minako.

Yuuko was a ball of energy, gushing on about Japanese folklore and its association with the magical world in Japan, before launching into a bombardment of questions about Western magic. Takeshi sat through the one-sided conversation with a grin, clearly used to his girlfriend's zeal for all things magical, while Yuuri's family could only watch with polite curiosity.

"Yuuko," Minako clicked her tongue, "The Katsukis don't understand a word you're saying."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Yuuko gasped, hands flying to her lips in embarrassment. "Should I translate as we speak?"

"Don't, no one cares." Minako took a swig of her drink and leaned closer to Viktor, breath reeking of alcohol. "I'm more interested in pretty boy here. What do you see in Yuuri, exactly?"

"Minako- _sensei_ ," Yuuri yelped.

"What?" Minako snickered. "Isn't that why you brought him home? Make sure you translate what he says to your parents."

"I didn't invite him here to be interrogated – "

Viktor reached out to grab Yuuri's hand under the low dining table, lacing their fingers together. He smiled as Yuuri turned to him, surprised. "Yuuri's my sun, my moon, and my stars. I exist only to revolve around him."

Yuuri's face turned a bright crimson, just as Yuuko squealed, drowning out Mari's quiet snort.

"Oh my god, my heart can't take it!" she giggled. "Hiroko- _san_ , Toshiya- _san_!"

"Don't translate that," Yuuri groaned, but his mother was already clapping her hands in delight, laughing.

"I have to say, you foreigners have a way with words," Minako lifted her glass, smirking.

"Um, after dinner," Hiroko beamed despite her struggles to speak in English, "I have pictures. Baby Yuuri."

"Yes, please," said Viktor, sparkling, while Yuuri flailed in horror, knocking his soup bowl over, Mari chiding him for his carelessness.

Hiroko's pork cutlet bowl was _vkusno_ , but the after-dinner special was far more delectable, with the excited mother bringing out large picture albums to reveal the chubbiest, most _adorable_ baby Viktor had ever seen. (It's a good thing muggle pictures didn't move, or Viktor would have melted into a puddle of incoherence at the roly-poly cuteness.)

" _Okaasan_ ," Yuuri whined behind the counter, " _Must_ you?"

"Dishes," Mari said impassively, shoving Yuuri to the back.

"If you'd just let me use my wand – "

"No."

As Hiroko pointed out a photograph of three-year-old Yuuri in Japanese _kimono_ , holding an empty ice cream cone and crying fat tears over the pool of dessert on the ground, Viktor felt a wave of emotion wash over him, filling him with warmth and affection.

So this was what it was like to have a family.

* * *

Viktor hadn't expected to find Yuuri's father in the hot springs after dinner. The older man had been mostly silent throughout dinner, with that imperceptible smile on his face. It was difficult to tell what he thought of Viktor, or Viktor's relationship with Yuuri.

Suddenly abashed by their nakedness, Viktor wrapped a towel round his waist, and tried to make his leave. "Sorry, I'll come back later – "

"No, no." Toshiya beckoned with one hand, looking very much like the small cat statue sitting at the entrance of the inn. "Come. Together."

"Oh, well." Nervously, Viktor removed the towel and sank into the hot waters, drifting closer to the other man. "Water feels good," he said, unsure of what else to say.

Toshiya nodded, smiling.

They sat together on protruding rocks, gazing at the large raccoon-looking stone statue at the edge of the bath. It would've been a relaxing soak, with the soothing sound of flowing water, and the quiet _tonk_ , _tonk_ of a bamboo bar seesawing gently behind them, if it weren't for the fact that he was in his birthday suit, and sharing the same pool of water as his equally naked future father-in-law.

To steal the words from Yura's potty mouth: _this was some awkward shit._

It was several more agonizing _years_ before Yuuri's father spoke.

"Yuuri is uh… how you say," Toshiya frowned, nose wrinkling in exactly the same manner as Yuuri when he's concentrating. "Sensitive. Like girl." As an afterthought, he added, "Like me."

Slowly, Viktor nodded in acknowledgment.

Toshiya smiled, happy that Viktor understood. "He has, uh, many feelings." The older man spread his arms wide. "Many, many feelings."

Viktor's eyes softened. Ah, so that's where he's going. "Yes, he does."

"Because of you, um," Toshiya paused, thinking. "Because of you, he plays sports. In sky."

"Quidditch?" At Toshiya's nod, Viktor's breath hitched. "Yuuri played Quidditch because of me?"

"Yes. He bought broom. Mari used it to sweep floor, he get very angry."

Given how well Yuuri cared for his Nagareboshi, Viktor could picture it clearly: young Yuuri yelling at an unperturbed Mari for dragging his precious new broomstick through the dirt. "How cute."

"He bought Vicchan too."

"Who?" said Viktor.

"Pet bird," Toshiya explained succinctly. "Your name."

"He... He named his pet bird after me?"

"Yes."

Oh, could he love his little star any more than he already did? (Yes, yes, and _absolutely_ , yes.)

And then, Yuuri's father smiled at Viktor, warm and gentle as the rays of the evening sun.

"Take care of my son and his many, many feelings."

Viktor's heart swelled large enough to burst. He could feel the trust the older man was bestowing upon him, and it was so precious – far more precious than any trophy, or Championship title, or even his trusty Firebolt Extreme.

Standing, waters sloshing around his waist, Viktor bowed deeply, as far as he could go. "I promise to take care of Yuuri till the end of my days."

Toshiya nodded once. Then, he gestured at a tiny wooden tray, floating idly by his side.

"Now we drink," Yuuri's father said solemnly, raising a _sake_ bottle from the tray with reverence.

* * *

Voices, voices, so many voices.

They were loud, so loud, and the volume was grating on Viktor's nerves.

"Shh," he moaned, a raw ache shooting through his head when he tried to shift. Whatever he was lying on felt refreshingly cool against his heated skin. "S'hurts."

"Viten'ka, are you okay?" Yuuri's breath was hot against his ear. "I'm so sorry about my dad…"

"What happened?"

"You drank too much and passed out in the hot springs."

"But not before vandalizing the bamboo fence," cackled another voice, higher in pitch, and with far too much amusement. "Customers are gonna love seeing your many variations of penis drawings and ' _Viktor Nikiforov-Katsuki_ ' carved in every corner. Do dicks curve like that in your part of the world, or is that one of your kinks?"

"Minako- _sensei_ , you're not helping."

"Not dicks," Viktor corrected sagely, "Birds."

"Don't they mean the same thing in English?"

" _Minako-sensei_."

"Fine, fine, I'll help you walk the drunk to his room."

"My dad's still naked – "

"Hiroko and Mari have it covered."

With his _sake_ heightened sensations, Viktor drowned in Yuuri's delightful scents as the other boy lifted him to his feet. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms round Yuuri, dropping his face into the other's neck and inhaling deeply. "I love you for loving me enough to love a bird."

"Um," said Yuuri after a beat. "Thank you?"

"What is it with him and birds?" said Minako.

"Search me," Yuuri laughed.

* * *

It's at breakfast that the matter was cleared up, and Viktor finally met Vicchan – an exquisite white raven that perched regally on Yuuri's shoulder, nuzzling its head into black hair every few seconds. (Aptly named, Viktor thought, feeling a hint of envy over the bird's blatant display of affection.)

It's also at breakfast that the older patrons joined the family, asking inquisitively about the carvings in the male bath, and Yuuri's magic studies, and oh, (Yuuko translated brightly), _are the handsome boy and Yuuri-chan getting married_?

"Ah," said Hiroko, smiling proudly, Minako helpfully interpreting her next words with a wicked grin. "Toshiya and I are waiting for grandchildren."

As the dining hall descended into chaos, with Yuuri screaming a flow of rapid Japanese, cheeks flaring red, and Yuuko screaming for an entirely different reason, Viktor sat back on his heels with a contented sigh.

He could definitely get used to this.

* * *

Bonus

There's a strict no-magic rule in the Katsuki home, after little Yuuri accidentally made the utensils dance thanks to his thousandth watch of Beauty and the Beast. (English practice, he claimed.) It was all very entertaining until the kitchen knives joined in.

... _Requests are always open! Feel free to squeal with me on tumblr: dreaming-fireflies. tumblr. com (remove the spaces)._


	9. Viktor in Japan: Part Two

_**Author's Notes:**_ _Combined two requests in one for this drabble:_

 _1) "In a change of pace from the sweet/humorous drabbles so far, what about writing one about Yuuri encountering his old teammates from Japan?"  
2) "Based off this au~ id like them to see native japanese magical creatures and all that it would be hella"_

 _I will have more stuff based on the second request as Viktor visits more magical places in Japan! Thank you for the requests, and I hope you enjoy my take on them!_

 _Also: I've set up a compiled list of requests on Tumblr dreaming-fireflies on my #drabbles and #list tags. Take a look if you're interested to see what's on the list. :3_

* * *

Takeshita Shopping Arcade was silent, save for a group of businessmen stumbling about in a drunken stupor, and a couple making their way to the train station, giggling and clinging to each other as if one would fall without the other.

Holding Viktor's hand tightly, Yuuri Apparated them into an alley behind the Lawson's convenience store near the entrance, ducking behind a dumpster for extra precaution when they appeared.

"So this is Tokyo," Viktor mused, glancing at the street art on the wall of a building: a perfect replica of Hello Kitty, if its face weren't melting to its feet in an acid-corroded mess. "Quite different from what I expected."

"Harajuku's… special," said Yuuri, blanching at the horrific graphic. It's a new addition since Yuuri last visited the shopping arcade; whoever drew that must have been in a sick frame of mind.

He felt Viktor's gentle squeeze of his hand, and he looked up to see the Russian smiling at him, blue-green eyes bright in the darkness. "I'm excited to learn more about you, even if that includes a strange cat with a dissolving face."

Yuuri flushed, grateful for the lack of street lamps in this corner of the road. Viktor always had the cheesiest lines, but he found them so very endearing all the same.

Truth be told, Yuuri was hesitant about taking Viktor to the shopping arcade. Being the largest wizarding street in Japan, its size equivalent to Diagon Alley in London, the magical community tended to frequent the street for their supplies. And if the magical community bought their supplies at the arcade, then the chance of running into certain people also rose to a painfully uncomfortable percentage.

But Viktor was relentless in his pleas to go shopping, so here they were now: standing beneath the colorful archway of Takeshita Shopping Arcade, "TAKESHITA STREET" written in bold white letters on the sign above.

"It's empty," Viktor noted.

"Shops close at eight," Yuuri said. Slipping out his wand, he tapped lightly at grey pole of the archway, murmuring, " _Kachou fuugetsu_."

There's a surge of magic, before reality blurred away to reveal a bustling street lit by red lanterns hanging over rows and rows of stalls. The arcade was filled with noise: conversations, children laughing, elderly witches haggling with vendors, and the many kimono-clad stall assistants, promoting their wares with magically amplified high-pitched voices. Looking down from the archway, heads were the only things visible on the road; people flowing up and down like parallel streams of water.

Perhaps it'd be easier to hide in a crowd this large.

"Wow," gasped Viktor, mouth forming a distinct heart shape. "I don't even know where to begin!"

Yuuri chuckled, sensing Viktor's childish delight buzzing through their joined hands. "We have all night," he said, basking in his partner's dazzling smile.

* * *

"Watch it, punk," the kappa growled in Japanese, straightening the dish on its head. "Almost spilt my water there."

Viktor tilted his head, a silent question mark forming over him.

When the water demon frowned, large frog eyes bulging further out of its head, Yuuri hastened to Viktor's side. "I'm very sorry," he said, shoving a hand to the back of Viktor's head and forcing a bow with him, "He's foreign to these parts and doesn't understand the language."

"Keep better watch of him, wizard, or he'll lose an eye or two," said the kappa, before disappearing into the crowd, webbed feet leaving squelching noises with every step.

"I couldn't avoid bumping into him in this crowd," Viktor pointed out, perceptively picking out the direction of the conversation on his own.

"Yes, but we don't mess with kappa," Yuuri said, threading an arm through Viktor's. "They're vicious tricksters, and it's a hassle to rid of them in general. Just try not to knock over their water dishes; that's their pet peeve."

"Oh Yuuri, look! It's a whole stall of masks!"

Within seconds, Viktor had pulled away to dash to the stall in question, silver hair bobbing among the throngs like a lost ball in a black river. Yuuri sighed as he followed after, glad for Viktor's height and uniquely foreign features – at least that made it easy to find him.

"Hey buddy, how 'bout a peacock feather for your lover boy, eh?"

The nasally voice and Kyoto accent unmistakably marked a tengu.

Yuuri spotted the little winged demon at a quiet corner of the street, its merchandise spread out on a mat. Sporting the head of a crow and the body of a human, Tengu were generally friendly unless provoked. Like kappa, however, they were known for their cunning minds, and Yuuri had to question the magical affinity of the feathers the creature was selling.

Scratching at the folds of its black hakama, the tengu took a long drag from the pipe in its hand and blew a cloud of smoke in Yuuri's direction. "Ah see it in your face," it grinned, beak clacking against the pipe's stem. "Y' think my feathers don't do shit."

"Well no," Yuuri coughed, waving his hand at the thick cloud. He really ought to train in the art of the poker face with Seung-gil. "I was going to ask what they do, exactly."

"Don't they teach y'all that stuff in wizard school?"

"The only feathers I've seen are on quills or used for Charm practice."

The tengu sniffed, shaking its head. "School, I tell ya. Useless in the real world." It gestured idly at its products. "Feathers strengthen positive emotions, like, y'all got your uh – love, hope, joy, all that corny human crap. All y'gotta do is plant it on the person whose emotions y'wanna strengthen and voila! Emotion central."

Crouching down, Yuuri examined the wares carefully. There were feathers of various colors and sizes, each one crudely attached to a loop of black string just large enough to fit an adult human wrist. "And what do peacock feathers strengthen?"

"Lust," said the tengu.

Yuuri looked up. Processed the word. Blinked.

"Trust me," he said, "My lover boy has more than enough of that."

The tengu let out a hearty guffaw. "Guess it's true what they say about foreigners."

"Well," said an obnoxious voice behind him, "Look what the tengu dragged in."

Yuuri froze.

Of all the stalls, among all these people, he had to run into his old teammates at an unlicensed feather stall with a tengu as the vendor.

The irony was eating him alive.

* * *

It was odd seeing Toyohashi Tengu players without their Quidditch robes. Unlike the close-knit Siberian Sirins, the Tengus comprised of so many members that they rarely spent time as a team outside practice sessions, preferring to break into separate groups instead. Even now, only a quarter of the team was present – the reserved members who had yet to play a national game, and the very members Yuuri was most dreading.

The member who spoke earlier – Tanaka, a Chaser – stepped forward, scowling darkly. "You've got some nerve coming back here."

"After running to some faraway land like a coward," added Adachi, Tanaka's Beater girlfriend, her nose lifted high into the sky.

"I'm just showing someone around," Yuuri mumbled. He was still in a squatting position, barely stifling the urge to curl deeper into a ball. All noise in the background had faded, and the tension sank on him, crushing him like falling rocks in a landslide.

"Maybe we should leave him alone," said a small boy meekly in the back of the group. He's doubled over, carrying his weight in sling bags and brown parcels. "The captain doesn't think it's Katsuki-san's fault…"

Tanaka whirled on him, snarling, "So _you_ forgive him for Yamashita's death? Some best friend you are, Mishima."

Mishima cringed, head bowing.

"Friends o' yours?" the tengu asked quietly, pipe contents glowing red.

"Do they look like friends?" Yuuri whispered back.

The demon grunted, "Hard t' tell with humans."

"Hey, murderer," said Tanaka, and Yuuri flinched – the ball idea was starting to look more and more appealing. "Saw articles online, something about you getting lovey-dovey with Viktor Nikiforov? That who you have your eye on next, the Sirins Seeker?"

"T-Tanaka," Mishima gasped.

"What's your plan this time? Knock him off during a romantic midnight ride and make it look like an accident?"

Yuuri felt the world start to spin, bile rising up his throat. Old voices that haunted his dreams, haunted his _days_ , swirled through his mind; wailing, cursing, begging him to _go to hell, go to hell and bring Yamashita back_ – and the Chaser's face, filled with terror, screaming his name –

"Oi, scumbag." The tengu rose to its feet, wings fanning out. "All this negativity is contaminatin' my goods. Why don't y'all go pick on someone your own size?"

"Like who," Tanaka towered over the tiny demon, his girlfriend and mates sniggering. "You?"

The tengu flung its pipe to the side and reached into its white shirt. "Ya little – "

" _Imperio_."

Startled by the flash of green light, Yuuri turned his gaze upwards.

The group was staring in mute astonishment, Adachi trying desperately to restrain the Tanaka as he dropped on all fours and started groveling for Yuuri's forgiveness.

Yuuri realized then that someone was standing beside him, silver hair falling like a curtain over a fox mask. In constant motion, three red stripes adorned the top of the mask, curling and waving around a pair of blue-green eyes that gleamed dangerously through the narrow slits.

"Viktor…?" Yuuri ventured.

"Don't forget the bird-man too," Viktor said cheerily, flicking his wand.

Obediently, the Chaser whipped round to kowtow to the tengu, who looked just as stunned as the humans.

"That's – that's _illegal_ ," Adachi wailed, yanking fruitlessly at her boyfriend's arm, "You just cast an _illegal spell_ – "

Viktor hummed, the red mouth of the fox mask growing wider. Lifting his wand, his quiet voice rose above Adachi's. " _Cruci_ – "

"R-Run!"

The Tengu players dove into the crowd, dragging with them a Tanaka that was still sobbing apologies, cursing himself and his entire line of ancestors in the same breath. Mishima stumbled after them with an expression that looked suspiciously like glee.

Slowly, the bustling noises of the shopping arcade returned, washing over Yuuri in a soothing wave.

For the next few seconds, that is.

"Unforgivable curses?" Yuuri exploded in an angry stage whisper, "What if someone saw you? What if the team reported you? You could've been in so much trouble – "

"Yuuri." The fox mask leaned in, bumping into Yuuri's nose. A warm palm cupped his jaw, thumb stroking gently at his wet cheeks – wait, wet cheeks? Had he been crying?

Viktor used his free hand to slide the mask off then, flicking his head once to shake his bangs into place. _Beautiful_ , thought Yuuri, before the Seeker closed the distance and pressed a kiss on his lips. Then another, and another, and another – a dozen soft brushes leaving Yuuri giddy with sensations and want.

"Nothing is more unforgivable than making you cry, _moya zvezdochka_ ," Viktor murmured hot against Yuuri's mouth, the heady blast of Veela charm making him weak in the knees.

Loudly, the tengu cleared its throat.

Yuuri broke out of Viktor's embrace, ignoring the pout his partner gave in response.

"Ah see what y'mean 'bout your lover boy," the demon snorted. The pipe was back in its beak, and it had settled back into a comfortable sitting position behind the mat.

"What did the bird-man say?" said Viktor, smiling.

The tengu's beady eyes flickered to Yuuri. "If he calls me bird-man again, ah'm rippin' his tongue out."

"You understand English?" Yuuri said, blinking.

"Enough to know simple words like 'bird' and 'man'."

"It's a tengu," Yuuri corrected Viktor, feeling a headache coming on. Too much, too sudden – his old teammates showing up, and then Viktor using an Unforgivable curse like it was a simple Levitation spell. What he wouldn't give for a nap right now. "Did you, um, have more stalls you wanted to see?"

"Not if you're too tired. We can always come back another time." Viktor beamed at the tengu. "So this is your team's mascot?"

"Yes and no." Yuuri glanced at the demon, relieved to note that it didn't seem to be reacting to the word 'mascot'. Judging by its prideful character, it probably wouldn't take well to that at all. "It's the magical creature the team was named after, but not the exact mascot." He flashed a wistful smile. "Also, it's not my team… not anymore."

"Not yet," said Viktor firmly. Grinning, he raised a traditional tengu mask in one hand. "Especially now that I've gotten you one of these. The lady at the mask stall said it'd bring luck."

Yuuri accepted the offered mask with a laugh. "Thanks, I think."

"Hey," said the tengu as they turned to leave.

Something flew in his vision and Yuuri caught it out of pure reflex. Flipping his hand over, he opened his palm to reveal a loop of black string and a single grey feather.

"On me." The creature shrugged, wings folding behind its back. "Think you're gonna need it."

"Which emotion does this one strengthen?" Yuuri asked, feeling the feather between his fingers.

"You'll see."

"What a nice bird-man," said Viktor.

When the tengu reached into its shirt again, Yuuri hustled Viktor away from the makeshift stall and into the safety of the crowd.

* * *

"How did you even learn the Imperius Curse?" Yuuri asked, tugging at the black string around his wrist. The loop was larger than it looked; it hung too loose, threatening to slip past his hand with every movement.

"Durmstrang has extensive classes on the Dark Arts," Viktor said, setting the fox and tengu masks on a shelf near the bedroom door. "I don't excel at it, but Yura does a fairly nasty Cruciatus Curse when he's mad."

"I feel sorry for whatever you practise on," Yuuri shuddered.

"Bugs, mostly."

"You weren't actually going to perform the Cruciatus Curse on Tanaka, were you?"

"Well, I was angry enough for a rather strong one." Viktor chuckled at Yuuri's horrified expression, "But no, I wasn't, not with so many witnesses. The Imperius Curse lands me in more of a grey area if I'm caught."

Yuuri frowned. "Was that taught at Durmstrang, too?"

"Our professors are very thorough." Sauntering over to the bed, the Russian plunked down next to Yuuri, nodding at the bracelet. "Do you need help with that?"

Sheepishly, Yuuri lifted his hand, string falling. "Yes, please."

With deft fingers, Viktor added a knot to the loop, tightening the string in one go.

It took a moment for the grey feather to make its effects known, but when it did, Yuuri felt a delightful floating sensation. It was as though all the tension in his body had drained away and left him in a state of immense relaxation.

"Yuuri?" Viktor said worriedly.

"I'm fine," Yuuri replied, exhaling slowly. "I just feel really… at peace. Grounded."

"Mm, good." Lips brushed against his forehead, a soft caress. "Maybe you should wear that the next time you try flying again."

"Yeah," said Yuuri, recalling Mishima's words: _the captain doesn't think it's Katsuki-san's fault._

"Yeah, maybe I will."

* * *

Notes

And the stage is set for Yuuri's triumphant return! ... eventually, l-lol.

花鳥風月 ( _Kachou fuugetsu_ ): Japanese proverb that means "flower, bird, wind, moon"; or less literally, "learn about yourself through experiencing the beauties of nature"

As for what the tengu keeps reaching into his shirt for: it's an ordinary Japanese fan. At least, it looks ordinary. ;)


	10. Approval is for insecure people

_Author's Notes: In celebration of Welcome to the Madness (*SCREAM*) and written in response to requests:_ " **Yurio and Otabek, maybe how they knew, or if they get in touch after the semester finished. Maybe Otabek visiting Yurio and his many, many cats, or Yurio thinking about inviting him home, but having doubts"** and " **Since you did this one, can we get one for OtaYuri? I would love for one of them to meet the family of the other."**

 _Enjoy, and requesters, I hope these are to your liking! :3_

* * *

Flip a coin, said the Ravenclaw nerd.

Best out of three, he said.

Well, best out of three was two tails, and tails meant he _shouldn't_ ask Otabek over for the winter holidays, except what the hell, that's not supposed to happen?

"This is your fault," Yuri scowled at the fireplace.

"You asked for a solution to your invitation dilemma," Yuuri's giant head countered as it danced above the coals, the greenish aura illuminating his glasses.

"I asked because you must've devised a system on deciding whether to invite my cousin over."

Yuuri's head tilted to one side. "I didn't really have to _decide_ on that…"

"So you invited the idiot over without thinking first?" Yuri reared back in a show of shock. "Are you mad, or just dumb?"

"It's called love, Yura," said an annoyingly cheery voice in the background.

"And he's _still_ there?"

"For as long as he wants." Yuuri's nose scrunched then, little wrinkles forming as he laughed, "He's also dancing some sort of jig in his underpants." The head rolled back a full 180 degrees. "You know he can't see you, right?"

"It's the thought that counts!" said the biggest fool on earth.

"Look," said Yuuri's head, turning back half a circle, "You obviously aren't happy with the results of the coin toss. What do you think that means?"

Yuri looked away, huffing, "What is this, some pseudo psychobabble session?"

"What's making you so worried about Otabek visiting?" Yuuri asked patiently.

"I'm not worried," Yuri yelled into the fire.

Yeah, that's right. The louder he said it, the more convincing it'd sound.

"He's afraid Otabek won't like his home," the irritating voice chimed in from afar. "Or his grandpappy." A pause, then, "Or his cats."

Yuri paused, eyes widening. He hadn't considered that last one. "Why – why wouldn't Otabek like my cats," he retorted, faltering slightly.

"Some people have cat allergies," the voice supplied gravely.

"Cat allergies!?" Yuri shrieked, clutching at his face.

"Viten'ka," Yuuri sighed, "Stop teasing Yuri and go put on pants before my sister walks in on you again."

"Oh, but this is too fun~"

It took several minutes for Yuuri to get Viktor away from the fireplace, and another few minutes to persuade Yuri out of the ball of anxiety he had curled into, before Yuri finally accepted the suggestion of asking Otabek to clarify his allergies.

* * *

 _No allergies that I know of.  
_ _Also, I like animals.  
_ _That includes cats.  
_

 _Yours,  
_ _Otabek_

Yuri folded the small parchment in half and releasing a sigh of relief, flicking a morsel of food at their pet owl in thanks. Of course a cool guy like Otabek would like cats; cats were the best animals. It was absurd of him to even think otherwise.

Wait – why was he _relieved_?

Damn Yuuri and his damn psychobabble crap.

Grandpapa flashed a smile at him from across the table. "Which one of your friends is that, Yuratchka?"

Yuri's cheeks reddened, his gaze dropping down to his jasmine tea, brewed to perfection by his grandfather. (Everything grandpapa made was perfect.) "The Hogwarts one… the one from Kazakhstan."

"Ah, Otabek, was it?"

"You remembered," Yuri's eyes dart up, shining.

"Of course I do," his grandfather laughed richly. "You look so happy when you talk about that one in particular."

"Because Otabek's really cool," Yuri said before he could stop himself. "Did I tell you he's studying to be an Animagus?"

Grandpapa nodded, taking a sip of tea. "You did mention he's very good at Transfiguration."

"He's still deciding what to turn into, though. I told him to try a tiger, but he wasn't too big on the idea."

"Hmm," grandpapa's lips curved against the edge of the teacup. "Is that because you like tigers?"

"I _love_ tigers," Yuri said with conviction.

His grandfather chuckled. "Yes, I see that."

Well, since they were already on the subject – he should ask now, before he lost his nerve and changed his mind again. Ever since he and Otabek agreed to go steady, his mind had been swinging like a pendulum on the most ridiculous bullshit, like should he end his letters with _love, lovingly, yours_ , or the usual _regards, best, thanks_? Should he respond when Otabek slipped during a fireplace chat and called him _mishka_ , because _bloody hell_ , he wasn't cute or a teddy bear, _shut up Otabek_?

Should he maybe stop acting like a goddamn girl and talk to Otabek like a normal manly man with manly feelings?

(Yuri made the mistake of posing that question to Otabek himself once, only to have instant regret when his boyfriend replied, "I like your manly feelings the way they are."

And then he _had_ to give that shit-eating, I-know-you-secretly-like-it-when-I-say-crap-like-this smirk, and Yuri would've decked Otabek in the gut if he weren't so busy trying to stem the blush forcing its way up his skin. Why'd the Kazakh have to be so stupidly sexy?)

"So, um, grandpapa?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think I could maybe, uh, have Otabek over? For like, a day?"

"Only a day?" grandpapa asked with a grin.

"Yeah," said Yuri, twirling a blond strand of hair round his finger. "Unless, you know, he wants to stay the night."

"He's welcome as long as you want him here, Yuratchka."

"Great, thanks, grandpapa." Yuri brightened, before he slid off his seat to dash back to his room. He's got to clean up the mess, and throw his laundry in the basket, and maybe set up more of his dragon figurines –

And then he tripped over something small and furry, nearly landing flat on his face.

"Aza!" he shouted at the old cat, which looked at him with luminous eyes. "You better not pull that shit when Beka's here!"

Aza flicked its tail disdainfully, before stalking away with its head raised.

"Crotchety old man," Yuri muttered.

Maybe he ought to introduce Otabek to his nicer felines first, too.

* * *

"Which one is this one?"

"That's Diana. She's real sweet, likes to curl up on my belly at night."

"And Misha's the one that sleeps on your feet?"

"Oh yeah, fat ol' Misha."

Yuri leaned back, watching with amazement as his cats circled round Otabek, sniffing at the older boy with curiosity. Even the shyer ones like Diana and Misha were settling down in Otabek's lap, purring like twin jet engines, Misha's round body practically squishing poor Diana off the edge.

"You sure you're not wearing any catnip?" he asked.

Otabek shook his head, reaching down to scratch behind Talya's ear as the clingy cat nudged insistently at his elbow. "Nope."

"Wow, you're like the cat whisperer," Yuri grinned. "Why don't you just make your Animagus a cat, like your school's Headmistress?"

"Too common," Otabek shrugged.

"True. Wouldn't be as fun, then, I guess."

Otabek glanced round the small room.

Yuri had a room that grandpapa dubbed 'minimalistic', holding nothing more than a bed, a study desk, and a bookshelf. Yuri preferred to call it 'functional'. He didn't like the sound of his grandfather's description – it had the word 'minimal' in it, which made them sound poor, and they weren't _poor_. Grandpapa worked really hard so they had clothes to wear, food to eat, and lots of tea to drink.

That meant they weren't _poor_ , damn it.

Yuri held his breath as Otabek turned his gaze back to him.

"You have a cozy place."

Slowly, Yuri exhaled. "It's just me and grandpapa. We make it work."

"Cool," said Otabek, flashing one of his Otabek smiles that made it shine all the more radiant because of how _rare_ it was. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Yeah, sure," Yuri mumbled, hating that his face could flush so easily.

What the hell had he been so worried about?

It was only natural Otabek would like his home, his grandpapa, and his cats – Otabek was awesome, and awesome people ought to recognize awesome when they saw it.

"Yuratchka, Otabek!" grandpapa called down the hallway. " _Pirozhki_ s are ready!"

"Coming," Yuri called back, rising to his feet. He was just making his way to the door of his bedroom when his foot collided with an all-too-familiar frame, pitching forward with a yelp. Instantly, Otabek was right there, catching him in his arms. The solid warmth engulfed him, heating up his cheeks even further.

"Aza you frickin' asshole," Yuri screeched.

If cats could smirk, the old bastard would totally be doing that right now.

"I thought you liked all your cats," Otabek chuckled.

"I like Aza just fine until he decides to be a _frickin' asshole_."

"I don't know," said Otabek, one hand sliding down to Yuri's waist, another lifting a lock of blond hair to brush his lips against it in a gentle kiss. "I think he has the right idea."

Yuri met Otabek's intense gaze, heart jumping up and into his throat. His hands were still on Otabek's (very firm) chest. How did the mood change so damn quickly? "Beka…"

"Yeah?" Otabek's voice dropped, low and deep.

"I, I think..."

It was hard to _think_ with the Kazakh looking at him like that, like he was some primal beast that wanted to devour him whole.

"You know," Otabek let the blond strands fall, dropping his hand to splay it over Yuri's, thumb stroking skin. "You have nice hands."

"Uh," said Yuri, "Thanks. You have a nice chest."

What the fuck? You have a nice chest?

 _Get it together, Yuri Plisetsky._

With his free hand, he jerked Otabek closer by the shirt collar, emboldened by the adrenaline, and embarrassment, and the rush of _anger_ at his own _idiotic_ responses.

"If you're going to kiss me, just do it already," Yuri snarled, leaning in until they're nose-to-nose.

Otabek breathed, fingers digging into Yuri's waist. "Yura," he murmured, and Yuri reveled in the shiver coaxed out by that _voice_ , slick as butter, as the other boy closed the distance –

"They're going to get cold at the rate you lads are moving," grandpapa chided, head popping up at the doorway.

A scream, a loud crunching noise, and then Yuri was apologizing to Otabek, while his grandfather mended the boy's broken nose with a healing spell.

"Thank you for having me, Sir," Otabek said stoically as the wand waved inches above his nose, sounding like he had wads of cotton stuffed up his nostrils.

"Thank _you_ for looking out for my wayward grandson," grandpapa said with a barking laugh. "From the way you took on Yuratchka's upper cut, I think I can count on you to keep him in line."

"Gladly, Sir."

As the two bonded over the essentials of survival and masculinity, Yuri took a bite of _pirozhki,_ moving inconspicuously to a corner of the dining table.

Maybe introducing Otabek to grandpapa wasn't such a good idea.

* * *

Notes

I've set up a compiled list of requests on Tumblr dreaming-fireflies on my #drabbles and #list tags. Take a look if you're interested to see what's on the list. :3


	11. Viktor in Japan: Part Three

_Author's Notes: Total PWP, in response to requests: **"I just received a box of treats from Hiroshima/Miyajima Island area, and it made me wonder what kind of wagashi, senbei, etc. Viktor magic enjoy."** and **"Oh and I want to see Japanese magical candies if you can".**_

 _It is my birthday and I was SUPER craving wagashi and Japanese snacks lol. I hope it's what you were looking for!_ _(Kudos to possibleplatypus on AO3 for some of the candy ideas!) See if you can spot some of the anime/game references I made in here hehe._

 _Also, t_ his _may not be the end of your requests, as I can always easily toss in more magical candies in future drabbles. ;)_

* * *

Viktor wasn't really into sweet _wagashi_.

He loved the cute colors of _sanshoku dango_ , enjoyed _taiyaki_ \- because look Yuuri, it's a fish filled with red bean - and he's determined to try every possible flavor of kit-kat he came across. He also ate _saganishiki_ , because Hiroko very sweetly gave him a slice to try ("This is Saga prefecture cake"), and never stopped offering him slices after he lied about how perfect it was.

But if Viktor were honest, he would say that he preferred _senbei_ – the saltiness and the crunch are too addictive.

And that was _before_ Yuuri introduced him to Japan's magical candies.

From gummy bears that yelled insults the second he opened the sample box ("I-It's not like I _want_ you to eat me, idiot!") to white chocolate biscuits that made whoever ate them fall madly in love with the giver for one day ("Made Valentine's Day very special," Yuuri said dryly), Viktor would have sampled and bought every single selection in the candy store at Takeshita Shopping Arcade if Yuuri hadn't dragged him away.

"They're all so cute," Viktor said, watching a little round candy piece roll idly on his palm. ' _Goro goro_ candy,' read the package in Japanese, 'The candy that never stops rolling!'

Beside the opened package laid a box of chocolates, tiny white rabbits hopping in and out of their compartments.

"It's just candy," Yuuri shrugged, popping a rabbit into his mouth.

" _Yuuri_ ," Viktor gasped.

"What?"

"You ate a _bunny_."

"I ate a piece of chocolate shaped like a bunny."

"Look at them!" In horror, Viktor pointed at the rabbits. "How could you possibly eat such cuteness?"

Yuuri looked torn between laughing and rolling his eyes. "Are you not going to eat any of the candy you bought?"

"It depends," Viktor pouted. "Are they all this cute?"

"Not all of them."

Reaching for the candy pile, Yuuri picked up a packet with the picture of fried potato sticks on top of the seal. Every stick sported the drawing of the saddest, most despaired face, as though it had just heard about its best friend's death. "These are _zetsubou_ Jagabii potato sticks. They leap into your mouth in an attempt to commit suicide, and if you're not careful, they could choke you to death if too many of them make the jump at once."

Viktor blinked. "Do you think Yura might like those?"

This time, Yuuri did laugh. "I doubt it. If you can ignore the shrieks of despair, they taste pretty good though."

"We'll keep it on the back burner," Viktor said cheerfully, taking the packet from Yuuri. "What else isn't cute?"

"These slime jellies," Yuuri pulled out another package. Wide-eyed and beaming with the radiance of a thousand suns, the colorful slimes looked oh-so-adorable lining the package front.

"How are they not cute?" Viktor cooed.

"They enlarge and have to be fought and defeated before you can eat them."

Viktor deflated like a punctured balloon. "Ah. And if you lose?"

"Then you get swallowed and stay encased in jelly for an hour or so."

"Back burner," Viktor said, grabbing and tossing the package onto the fried potato sticks.

"Are you giving Yuri all the candy rejects?" Yuuri asked disapprovingly.

"One man's trash may be another man's treasure," Viktor said sagely.

Yuuri snorted. "On that note, I personally love these, but they don't fit your definition of 'cute'."

He tugged out a black box at the bottom of the pile. ' _Meccha_ hard boiled!' screamed the bold, edgy characters.

The package opened to reveal: eggs.

Eggs with a frowny face and a painted suit and tie.

Eggs that were…

"30 feet away stood a dame who looked like she had a lot of class. 10 feet away, she looked like something made up to be seen from 30 feet away."

… hardboiled.

Viktor felt something shrivel and die inside. "Is this what you like? Bad puns?"

The egg glanced at him, before averting its gaze, painted eyes narrowing. "He was a guy who talked like a movie star: all words and no substance. Looked the part, too."

"Who's it talking to?"

"I don't know, but I like it." Flushing, Yuuri shut the lid of the box. "I used to read detective novels, okay?"

"Hmm." Viktor tapped his chin contemplatively, lips curving. "And what if I dressed like a hardboiled detective? Out to catch the notorious jewel thief Yuuri Katsuki?"

Yuuri frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Roleplay, my little star, roleplay!" Viktor chuckled. "We talked about spicing up our love life, didn't we?"

It took a beat, but Yuuri finally understood.

"Oh." His eyes darted to the floor, cheeks reddening further. "I, I wouldn't mind."

Viktor shifted closer, grasping Yuuri's chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Wouldn't mind what?" he crooned, leaning in, eyelids lowering.

Nervously, Yuuri's tongue darted out to wet pink lips, and Viktor's eyes traced the motion hungrily. Candy wasn't the only sweet thing in the room. "Wouldn't mind, um…" Brown eyes darkened, "Roleplaying…"

"Yuuri~!"

Yuuri jolted away and fell off his seat with a yelp.

His mother poked her head through his bedroom door, clucking loudly upon seeing Yuuri on the ground with a face that rivaled a tomato's. After stating a few words, she smiled at Viktor in greeting and left just as suddenly as she appeared.

"She needs help in the kitchen," Yuuri sighed, dusting his behind as he rose to his feet. "I'll be right back. Don't try any candy we haven't talked about, just to be safe."

"All right," said Viktor, glancing at the candy pile. The white rabbits were still hopping around their box, while the rolling candy were still… well, rolling. (It was a wonder that none of them had rolled off the table yet.)

Noting the brightly colored edge of a small box, he reached for it and examined the design carefully. 'Wish 'n' blow,' said the English words printed across the top. Judging by the picture, the contents appeared to be some form of bubblegum.

"Bubblegum should be safe," Viktor murmured as he popped the lid open.

* * *

Yuuri halted at his bedroom door, eyes growing wide. "What in the – "

Surrounding Viktor were a dozen Yuuris, dressed in nothing but a loincloth round their bare waists. Some were on their sides, spread languidly across the ground like Egyptian queens, while others were massaging the Russian, delicately feeding him _senbei_ pieces, or – Yuuri bristled with jealousy – threading their fingers through silver strands.

"Yuuri," Viktor said with an incredibly blissed-out look, head resting on a copy's lap. "I'm in heaven."

"You had the wishing gum, didn't you?" Yuuri said, eye twitching.

"Is that what it was?" Viktor beamed, utterly relaxed. "I just wished and blew like the box said."

Yuuri smiled beatifically. "I see."

"… Yuuri, what are you doing with that needle? Wait, Yuuri, no – _not my Yuuri harem_!"

Viktor's wail was accompanied by vicious popping noises.

"Sounds like they're having fun," Hiroko remarked in the dining hall.

"Idiots," Mari snorted.

* * *

"VIKTOR FUCKING NIKIFOROV," Yura shrieked, muffled by the hard jelly casing.

"Japan has the strangest candy," Otabek muttered, amused, as he readied his wand. " _Incendi_ \- "

" _Not while I'm still in it!_ "

* * *

Notes

I've set up a compiled list of requests on Tumblr dreaming-fireflies on my #drabbles and #list tags. Take a look if you're interested to see what's on the list. :3


	12. Viktor in Japan: Part Four Comeback

_Author's Notes: In response to drabble requests:_ **(1) As for drabbles prompt, somehow I wanted to see Yuuri's first Quidditch match after he recovered, but told in Yurio's eyes.** and **(2) Hi! I love your story...can you write a scenario where in Yuuri returned to Quidditch? Of course Viktor is totally in love with the idea that he can't help to be sooo excited to see his Yuuri flying gracefully again...thanks**

 _Sorry for responding to these so late! I hope the folks who gave these prompts are still around ahaha, and if you are, I hope you enjoy my take on them! :3_

* * *

The roar of the crowd was deafening. It washed over him, a wave of pure noise, so loud and thundering and forceful that he swayed on the spot. Clutching his broomstick, he steeled his eyes on the towering gates and inhaled deeply: in and out, breath by breath.

Focus. He had to focus. On the fresh, laundered smell of his new robes; on the rough grain of birch pressing into his palm; on a wiry, naked body and mischievous, upturned lips that promised _just one last kiss_. He shivered, his next breath wobbling at the last memory, but he kept his gaze even, kept it focused.

Someone dropped a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his meditative trance.

"Hey," said the Tengu captain, his face soft with concern. "You all right there, Katsuki?"

"Yes," he croaked.

He swallowed, surprised by how parched his throat felt.

"Yes," he tried again, somewhat mollified that his voice sounded less hoarse this time.

The captain chuckled lightly, and he blushed, embarrassed. "It's okay to be nervous," said the captain, squeezing his shoulder. " _I_ still get nervous before every game."

"I was hoping it gets better," he lamented.

"Sorry," the captain grinned.

With a sigh, he swept his thumbs under his hair, and using the hair tie on his wrist, swiftly tugged the long, dark strands into a high ponytail. Honestly, he had only allowed his hair to grow because of sheer laziness. Who knew long hair would turn out to be a hidden kink for his lover? (He'd rather not touch on Minami's reaction to his new hairstyle.)

Outside, the announcers were shouting their final introductions of the Egyptian team, and the cheers surged in intensity, responding to the performance of the Egyptian mascots.

In unison, the Tengu players swung a leg over their broomsticks, all eyes fixed on the gates in front of them.

His heart throbbed wildly and his stomach curled, hands clasping the handle of his _Nagaseboshi_ so tightly that he was sure his nails had left dents in the polished wood.

" – _and it gives us enormous pride to bring you our home team: the Toyohashi Tengus_!"

The noise shifted then, and the singing began: synchronized chanting, clear and strong, accompanied by the rhythmic beat of the cheer squad's whistles and drums.

Slowly, the gates creaked open, light and sound and a whole new world pouring in.

"All right, team." The Tengu captain looked about him with a smirk. "Let's fly."

He drew in a breath.

And flew.

* * *

He was on his feet, hollering along with the rest of the crowd, following the rhythm of the whistles and drums. _Something Tengu, something Tengu, something something hai hai hai_. He had no clue what they were saying, but the atmosphere felt like a manifested rush of adrenaline, full of energy and carnival-like zest, and he couldn't think of a warmer way to welcome Yuuri's official return to the pitch.

(He could think of many other ways, of course, but he didn't want his little star to be late for his first match.)

"Yura," he yells over the cheering, "Why aren't you joining in?"

His cousin folded his arms and sunk further into the plastic seat, rolling his eyes heavily. "And what, shout gibberish like a drunk fool? No thanks."

He had a witty comeback – really he did – but the gates opened, and the Tengu players soared into the stadium. He spotted Yuuri immediately – how could anyone miss the lithe figure, the graceful movements, the ethereally flowing, jet-black hair? It was the one and only time he ever agreed with Kenjiro Minami: long hair enhanced Yuuri's features into a form of beauty that was not of this earthly world.

The announcers were screeching player's names, and the chanting had changed into something more melodic, something with an actual tune. Down in the outfield bleachers, the cheer captains led the boisterous song with enthusiasm, clapping their gloved hands to the beat.

It was new to him, this sort of organized, coordinated cheering, but he loved every minute of it.

Especially when he recognized his lover's name.

"Yuuri, they're singing about Yuuri!" He let out an unrestrained laugh, leaned forward as far as the railings would allow, and pumped a fist into the air. "That's right, that's Yuuri Katsuki, my boyfriend and the best Chaser in the world!"

Fans around them whooped with him, slapping their plastic bats together in delight, and he lost himself entirely to the swell of pride, joy, and love for Yuuri. Finally, _finally_ , his little star was getting the recognition he deserved, and he couldn't wait to share the praise and glory with Yuuri, couldn't wait to play against him in the final match for the championship title.

"Remind me again why I agreed to come with _you_ ," Yura grumbled behind him.

* * *

The nerd scored – again.

He sat up straighter as the crowd went wild, waving Tengu banners and towels. Drums pounded frenetically in time with their cheers, whistles and trumpets blowing a triumphant tune.

The large screen zoomed in on Yuuri, whose face sported a wide grin, beads of sweat rolling down the sharp line of his jaw. The screams grew louder.

He couldn't give a nibbler's ass about Yuuri's new hairstyle; so what if the nerd now had a ponytail? Viktor used to have long hair, and it didn't make him any less of an idiot.

Yuuri's Quidditch plays though, now _that_ was a point that had him… interested. Perhaps even excited, if he were to exaggerate his emotions like a certain cousin of his.

He had waited _years_. After hearing about the nerd's Quidditch feats, he had scrounged for articles, photographs, anything he could get his hands on, and every single piece had extolled the swiftness, the agility, the elegance of Yuuri's motions in flight. (Otabek called it an 'obsession'; he saw it as 'knowing your rival'.)

And now, watching the shy ex-Ravenclaw dodge a Bludger, evade a trio of defenders, and seamlessly, effortlessly, shoot the Quaffle through a hoop _upside down_ , he felt a bolt of electricity run up his spine. He itched for one-on-one match with Yuuri, a battle between Chasers. Three out of five, he'd say, and Yuuri would nod, smirking exactly as he was on the screen right now, driving fans positively mad.

"They're winning," Viktor shouted to him, beaming from ear to ear, as though he hadn't been paying attention and needed reminding. His cousin had his sunglasses on, though why he bothered was anyone's guess. All that shrieking of Yuuri's name called so much attention on him that the idiot might as well announce his identity to the crowd.

He shrugged, tugging on his cap. "I wouldn't count on it yet. Egypt's got a strong Seeker."

"Rawya Zaghloul?" Viktor's smile turned razor-sharp. "She's not so strong."

"You beat her _once_ , asshole," he snorted. "This year might be different."

"True." Viktor sighed and gazed up, eyes shining behind dark lenses. Yuuri's gliding across sky, slapping a high-five with a female Tengu Chaser. "This year _is_ different."

"Spare me," he groaned.

"Oh, like you're not excited about Yuuri's comeback," Viktor said shrewdly.

There it was: 'excited'.

"Whatever," he huffed.

Suddenly, the announcers screeched and the stadium roared: the Tengu Seeker was diving, Rawya at his heels.

The Tengus needed another ten points, just ten, to ensure a complete victory. Rawya's catch would turn the tables, otherwise, ending the match in a draw for both teams.

The Quaffle was in Egypt's possession now, and the Tengus had seconds; minutes, if they were lucky.

A well-aimed Bludger managed to startle the Egyptian Chaser, who fumbled the Quaffle.

Instantly, Yuuri shot forward, flanked by two other Chasers. The second Yuuri caught the red ball, the Chasers split away, fending off their opponents and clearing Yuuri's path.

As fans shouted their approval, he leaned forward, heart hammering, fingers digging into his knees.

 _That's it_ , he thought, as Yuuri sped to the hoops, a blur of red and white.

 _That's it._

On the far right, the Seekers were spiraling upwards, Rawya now parallel with the Tengu Seeker, flying neck and neck.

 _Make the shot._

Chasers converged, racing to stop Yuuri. Putting on a burst of speed, Yuuri flattened the entire half of his body against his broom, ponytail streaming behind him like a black carp slicing through still waters.

He wrenched off his seat and into the rails, slamming against the thin metal bars, ignoring Viktor's glance of surprise.

" _MAKE THE GODDAMN SHOT,_ " he yelled, seconds before Yuuri flung the Quaffle with all his might, before the Egyptian Keeper lunged and missed – and _mere seconds_ before Rawya raised her right hand, the wings of the Golden Snitch beating weakly in her grip.

A hush of stunned silence.

And then the stadium exploded.

"Why Yura," Viktor said above the din, lips quirking, "I didn't know you cared."

"Oh shut up," he muttered, flopping back onto his seat.

* * *

" – match of the _century_ , I have to say, and did you _see_ that move he did, that's the mark of a dancer; the _flexibility_ – "

"Whoa, hold on there, Suzuki, I think we're catching something on screen right now. Katsuki's actually flying down _to_ the audience, and that's a rare thing for players to do right after a match, especially – _oh_ , are you seeing what I'm seeing right now, Suzuki?"

"Yes indeed, Heidi, he just planted a big one on that lucky audience member there – wait a minute, is that – "

"Surely not, but holy harpies, there aren't many people with silver hair in this part of the world – "

"Or half-Veela blood for that matter! Ladies and gentlemen, I do believe we are in the presence of the Siberian Sirin's celebrated Seeker – "

" – and he has taken off his glasses; that is _definitely_ Russia's Viktor Nikiforov! Look at the crowd, they are _eating_ this up."

"Which is more than I can say for what Katsuki is doing to Nikiforov. Is that the Sirin's new Chaser I see behind them?"

"Why yes, I think you're right. Yuri Plisetsky, the youngest Chaser to make a national team, and quite the hothead on the pitch, if I remember correctly."

"And a hothead off the pitch, judging by the way he's screaming at Katsuki and Nikiforov."

"Haha, well, I'd say that's our cue to give the lovebirds some privacy. Shall we return to our play-by-play analysis, Suzuki?"

"I'm all for that, Heidi!"

* * *

Notes

I've modeled the Japanese audience's synchronized chanting with the way they cheer for their actual baseball teams in Japan. They tend to have cheers for the whole team, and cheers for each individual player. There are also captains leading the cheers, with whistles and drums setting the rhythm, or trumpets and other instruments playing the melody.

Rawya Zaghloul is a canon Egyptian Seeker who defeated Viktor Krum in the 2002 Quidditch World Cup. Shocked and disappointed, Krum retired due to this loss.

Is there art with Yuuri in long hair? Because he'd look _magnificent,_ like a classic samurai ronin.

I've set up a compiled list of requests on Tumblr dreaming-fireflies on my #drabbles and #list tags. Take a look if you're interested to see what's on the list. :3


	13. Comeback (old Hogwarts boys version)

_Author's Notes: Fulfilling request -_ _ **"**_ _ **I'm starting to miss Phichit and the rest of the hogwarts children though, do you think we can get a drabble of them getting together after Yuuri's comeback?"**_

 _I hope you like it, anon!_

* * *

"And we're just supposed to stare into that shiny rectangle?" said Seung-gil, eyebrows furrowing.

Proudly, Phichit swiveled round in his desk chair and gestured at his new computer. "Brand new, top of the line gadget, with a high-speed processor, HD resolution, responsive touchscreen, and 500 gigs worth of hard drive space!"

"Speak English, Chulanont."

"It's a muggle device called a laptop," Phichit said with no less pride. "And yes, please, do stare into the shiny rectangle. Enjoy the wonders of high-definition and never before seen footage."

"How fascinating," Seung-gil said wryly. "Apparently none of us have seen trees before."

"The drones are flying past a forest to get to the stadium." Phichit aimed a half-hearted kick, which the other man dodged easily. "Twat."

"Why's it called a 'laptop'?" Leo asked, tucking his chin into the cozy nook between Guang Hong's neck and shoulder. The smaller boy giggled at the sensation of fine, brown strands tickling his cheek.

Phichit shrugged, swiveling back to his desk. He tapped his fingers rapidly on the keyboard, and images on the screen shifted, revealing a bird's-eye view of the same line of pine trees.

"Because it fits on top of people's laps, I suppose," he hummed.

"Wouldn't that make Guang Hong a laptop?" Seung-gil said, raising an eyebrow.

"He's _my_ laptop," Leo agreed cheerfully, curling his arms round Guang Hong's waist, tugging his boyfriend closer and more firmly against his stomach.

"It's nice being a laptop," Guang Hong added bashfully, dropping his hands over Leo's.

"Not how the term is used, but sure," Phichit guffawed.

The minute, no, the _second_ Vicchan delivered Yuuri's quidditch news, Phichit had rounded up the old Hogwarts gang for a World Cup viewing party in his tiny studio flat.

It was getting harder and harder to meet these days.

As a freelance composer, Leo traveled constantly, flying to Mexico, Spain, France, and Italy, creating music for singers, harpists, jazz bands – anyone who requested his talent. Jean-Jacques himself hired Leo to write a few songs for his wizard band, _Les hommes du roi_. (Leo had said he enjoyed France, and nothing more.)

No one was surprised to hear that Guang Hong was made prefect, and with Leo no longer in Hogwarts, he spent his free time in the school library, nose buried in textbooks, frantically preparing for his N.E.W.T exams.

Seung-gil was, well, Seung-gil. As an Unspeakable for the Department of Mysteries, he was working mad, erratic hours, which made him far more irritable than usual, but Phichit couldn't think of anyone more perfect for the job. He liked to tease Seung-gil now and then, prod at him for answers, but not a wizard alive could keep a secret the way Seung-gil could. Besides, Phichit was about 99.9 percent certain the stoic Korean was researching on love. He probably wanted his own harem of saucy wenches, the dog.

Phichit, meanwhile, was also up to his knees in work. The Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office received a constant stream of alerts: a mailbox that clamped down on any hand that stuck into it; _another_ regurgitating toilet (though, all right, that never got old); even a sentient toaster that yelled insults and burned everyone's toast. Petty pranks, all of them, and downright hilarious. His (very, very) old boss, Perkins, however, didn't share his sense of humor. It was a lucky thing Perkins valued his muggle heritage, or he would have been fired years ago.

("A gassy light bulb is no laughing matter, Mr. Chulanont," Perkins snapped while Phichit shook and wheezed, coming dangerously close to sliding off the cushy office chair.

"But the noise…" Across the conference table, colleagues hid smiles behind their hands. "So flabby, and _wet_ , and if you turn them on all at once _–_ "

" _Mr. Chulanont_.")

Regardless, Phichit enjoyed his work at TMMAO. ("Stop abusing acronyms," Seung-gil groaned.) His job afforded certain perks: quarterly bonuses, good dental care, and access to the best muggle products.

Like the three drones he charmed to cover Yuuri's first official quidditch match.

It took an hour to persuade Seung-gil from reporting the illegal act to the Ministry, and another hour to convince him that they wouldn't get caught. Leo and Guang Hong asked no questions, far too eager to watch a national quidditch match.

So here they were now: gathered on Phichit's cramped bed, tightly pressed, shoulder to shoulder, idly trading stories about their new lives.

Four years ago, they were together, just like today, giggling and shoving each other, curled up on Yuuri's bed in the Ravenclaw dormitory for the very last time. There were tears, so much tears, but graduation day remained in Phichit's top five memories of Hogwarts. Leo and Guang Hong were closer than ever, sporting matching couple bracelets and glowing with affection for each other. Viktor had spared no expense in lavishing his beau with love, and Yuuri, practically buried to his ears in an explosion of roses, lilies, and sunflowers, had never looked happier.

And then, of course, there was Seung-gil's undignified squawk, when he opened the door to a wave of flowers surging over his head.

Yep, most definitely top five.

"Oh my god," Guang Hong squealed suddenly. "Is that Tokyo stadium? _Is that the actual Tokyo stadium_?"

Phichit jolted forward and slid his fingers lightly on the screen. The image widened, zooming in to reveal a sea of white and gold. Swiftly, he tapped on the volume button, and the roar of the crowd swelled, filling the small flat, strong and thunderous.

"It's the supporters for the Egyptian team," Leo gasped, clutching onto Guang Hong as though his life depended on it. "I can't believe we're really seeing this! Live!"

"Where's Yuuri?" Seung-gil asked, peering intensely into the screen.

"Looks like they're still introducing the Egyptian players," Phichit said. He tapped on a smaller window off to the side, and the image changed again; dots of red and white this time, with tiny figures in colorful uniforms walking up and down the aisles, large kegs strapped to their backs.

"Are those Japan's infamous beer girls?" Leo grinned. "I've heard they enchant the drinks so the fizz never stops bubbling."

Guang Hong shot him a stern look of disapproval. "How do _you_ know that?"

"You know my clients love their drinks and women, babe," said Leo, lifting his hands up defensively.

" – _and it gives us enormous pride to bring you our home team: the Toyohashi Tengus_!"

"Change the angle," Seung-gil commanded.

"You're not the boss here," Phichit grumbled, but he switched to the camera on the third drone, expanding the smaller window on the side, just in time to catch the trio of Tengu chasers soar through the open gates. It was just a matter of centering the image, and there he was: his best mate, waving shyly with a gloved hand, dark hair swept back in a high ponytail.

"That's Yuuri?" Leo and Guang Hong exclaimed in unison.

"That's Yuuri," Phichit said with the grin of a proud father.

"Wicked," said Seung-gil, lips curving.

* * *

The Egyptian chasers were no match for their Japanese counterparts. The keeper ran ragged, racing back and forth in his attempts to stop the Tengus' aggressive attacks, but the Japan team was relentless, scoring again, and again, and again. Leading the group was Yuuri, whirling and twirling gracefully through bludgers and players, looking for all the world like he was performing some form of complex aerial dance.

And then, on a smaller window, the Japanese seeker took a dive, followed instantly by the Egyptian seeker.

"No, no, no," Leo said repeatedly, as if his chanting would slow the Egyptian seeker down. "No, no, no, no, no."

"All their hard work," Guang Hong moaned.

"Not yet," Seung-gil said fiercely, glaring at the screen. "It's not over until someone catches the golden snitch."

Leo shook his head. "That's Rawya Zaghloul! Her catch in the 2002 Quidditch World Cup brought the Egyptian team to victory, and forced Viktor Krum into retirement. _Viktor Krum_!"

"She lost to Yuuri's Viktor," Phichit pointed out.

"Once," Guang Hong countered.

"Yuuri has the quaffle," said Seung-gil, and all eyes swept back to the laptop.

Phichit had seen that move countless of times.

Yuuri had a habit of stretching in his room before an exam – something about the action was soothing for him. His best mate even won an easy galleon off him once: when challenged to do a backwards bend, he had effortlessly folded back while still in a front split, the top of his head pressing into the hard, stone floor.

Flattening against the front of his broom?

 _Child's play._

Yuuri's shot whizzed through the unguarded hoop, seconds before the Egyptian seeker ended the match.

Leo and Guang Hong threw their arms around each other and screamed, while Seung-gil leaned on his hands, head rolling back in relief.

The camera captured Yuuri's look of absolute bewilderment, and then he was lost from view, his teammates clustering around him, cheering wildly in delight.

"Welcome back, mate," Phichit murmured softly.

* * *

Yuuri squinted, his face spread large and wide across the screen.

"Are you sure this is legal?" he asked.

"No more legal than your very public make out session," Phichit whistled as Yuuri reared back, flushing deeply. "You animal, you!"

"I wasn't the one who added tongue," Yuuri yelped.

"Wait, so he can see us now?" Leo said, blinking in confusion.

"Facetime," Phichit declared with a grin. "We muggles have our own brand of magic."

"We might as well call it magic, given how difficult it is for wizards to grasp simple technology," Yuuri sighed. "Viktor's still having trouble with his cellphone."

"Is he really? He's had it for weeks."

"He keeps using it like a walkie-talkie, and trust me, the insides of his mouth aren't as attractive as the outside."

"Not that it stops you from ravishing it," Phichit whooped, before Seung-gil shoved him roughly to the side.

The wheels of his chair squeaked in protest.

"Hey Yuuri," said Seung-gil. "Love the hair."

"Hey Seung-gil," Yuuri said, laughing. "Thanks."

"Congratulations, Yuuri," Leo chirped, popping his head over Seung-gil's shoulder. "You were awesome!"

"Yes, positively brilliant," Guang Hong added brightly on the other side.

"Thank you, guys, really."

Yuuri gave a soft smile, and for a brief moment, Phichit was reminded of laughter in the Great Hall, of crumpled notes passed under tired, droning lectures, of his best mate staring at the roomful of flowers, eyes shining in a mix of exasperation and boundless joy.

Someone called his name in the background. Turning, Yuuri responded in a rapid, melodic language, before he returned his gaze to the screen. "Sorry," he said sheepishly, "But the team wants to take a commemorative photo…"

"Go," said Phichit, surprised by the steadiness of his own voice. He pushed his feet against the floor and rolled his chair back to the laptop, squeaking occasionally along the way. "Facetime again later?"

"Count on it," said Yuuri, grinning.

And then he turned to leave, ponytail swinging, striding away with a confidence that was absent in his youth.

"He is so ace," Guang Hong sighed blissfully. "More ace than Viktor."

"That's high praise," Leo chuckled. "Where _is_ Viktor anyway?"

"Probably removed for indecent conduct," Seung-gil snorted.

As the three speculated on the Russian's whereabouts, Phichit grabbed his wand from the desk and formed a clear image of the three drones in his mind. " _Accio_ drones," he muttered, making minute motions with the wand.

"Don't forget our agreement," said Seung-gil, breaking away from the conversation. "If someone spots those things, I was never here."

Rolling his eyes, Phichit clapped the laptop shut, and turned to beam at his old friends.

"So," he said cheerfully, "Viewing party for Yuuri's second match?"

* * *

Notes

 _Les hommes du roi -_ The King's men

Seung-gil was, in fact, researching on the properties of love, because he hoped to harness its power for the good of the wizarding community. And it greatly irked him that Phichit had made the right guess, but for the wrong reasons.

Arthur Weasley would visit his old department from time to time, where he would spend a great many hours engaging Phichit in conversation about muggle technology and the customs of Thai muggles. On his last visit, he promised to introduce Phichit to his son, George, because the mischievous twinkle in Phichit's eyes somehow reminded him a little too much of Fred.

Leo found JJ unnerving. Don't ask him why, he just did.

Guang Hong would like to note that he desperately missed Leo at school and was also dying from N.E.W.T anxiety. Send help.

I've set up a compiled list of requests on Tumblr dreaming-fireflies on my #drabbles and #list tags. Take a look if you're interested to see what's on the list. :3


	14. Viktor in Mahoutokoro

_Author's Notes: For request - **"Okay but now I want a bunch of drabbles of Miyo-sensei and Yuuri and her giving a more effective shovel talk to Victor than Phichit."**_

 _Hope you like it!_

* * *

Viktor was missing.

Again.

As Yuuri ran down the narrow hallways of Mahoutokoro, shoes clacking against wood floors, he wished he had taken Phichit's advice of securing a child leash round his lover's waist.

Viktor's eyes hadn't stopped sparkling since they arrived at Yuuri's alma mater. Granted, the entrance to the palace did make for a majestic sight, its garbled and hipped roof towering high above the clouds, supported by four jade pillars. Gold adorned the edges of the roof, with delicate flower patterns carved into each structure.

They had just entered the courtyard when it happened: Viktor vanished.

Rather, his excited lover had scampered off like a young pup on its first foray into a bold, new world, running to the first shiny thing he saw.

Thankfully, he hadn't run far that time, and Yuuri soon found him near the school's birdhouse, fervently patting a disgruntled looking sparrow caught in his grip.

Viktor gently held up the small bird. "I found the poor thing among the petrals. Scooped him out so he wouldn't get trampled."

Yuuri's face drained of all color, and he covered his face with his hands. "Viktor, that's a _yosuzume_ , or a bird demon," he said, muffled under his palms. "He's also my Magic Linguistics teacher."

Viktor blinked. "Magic Linguistics teacher?"

"I teach the study of language and writing systems used in magic, you imbecile," said the sparrow in a deep, husky voice.

Instantly, Viktor dropped the bird as if he had been burned. Shaking out its flattened feathers, the bird fluttered to Yuuri, landing on his shoulder.

"I must question your taste in friends, Katsuki Yuuri," the sparrow sniffed, head twisting to glare at Yuuri with an accusing, beady eye. "Is this the result of a Western education?"

Yuuri dipped his head, hands still over his eyes. "I deeply apologize, Suzu- _sensei_. Magical creatures don't mingle with wizards as much in the West."

"Ha! I imagine they only speak one language over there?"

"I'm sorry for my mistake, but I _am_ fluent in Russian, English, and the Veela language," Viktor protested mildly.

"Oh you are, are you?" The sparrow fixed an eye on him and ruffled its feathers. "And what of the language of house elves? Of goblins? Of giants?"

Bewildered, Viktor turned to Yuuri, who shrugged helplessly.

Suzu- _sensei_ drew in a deep breath, white chest puffing forward. "Let me guess: you didn't know they spoke another language. Convenient for you, isn't it, that your magical creatures are forced to learn the language of wizards? It's no different for older Japanese wizards, the lazy bastards, but we here at Mahoutokoro believe in diversity and multicultural integration, which is why we uphold the highest standards when it comes to – "

"Run," said Yuuri under his breath.

"What," said Viktor, staring at the still-droning sparrow.

" _Run_ ," Yuuri yelped, grabbing Viktor's wrist and bolting across the courtyard.

The sudden movement jolted Suzu- _sensei_ off his shoulder, and the bird let out a startled squawk as he fell. Curious storm petrals stuck their heads through the windows of the giant birdhouse, watching the pair make their mad dash away from the sparrow.

"Isn't that disrespectful?" Viktor laughed as Suzu- _sensei_ began chittering loudly and rapidly in the distance. (The words he used were beyond rude in English.)

"Better than spending the next two hours listening to his diversity speech," Yuuri sighed, leading Viktor into the large building on the other end of the courtyard. "I'll write him an apology letter tonight."

Inside, the Throne Hall was quiet, save for a number of students crossing the area to and from various doors. Statues of foxes loomed large on opposite corners, almost like a pair of menacing guardians, were the image not dampened by the charming red bibs round their stone necks.

Yuuri felt his heart swell with the nostalgia. He loved the Throne Hall and its soft Japanese paintings on the four walls: of swaying pine trees, gushing waterfalls, and drifting clouds. Almost every room in the palace was connected to the hall via countless hallways. Students had to pass through the hall to get to their classes, just as they were now, their colored robes adding vibrancy to the soothing atmosphere.

Where the Great Hall of Hogwarts excelled in magnificence and grandeur, Mahoutokoro's Throne Hall succeeded in simple aesthetics.

"Wow," said Viktor, lips parting in wonder.

"Welcome to Mahoutokoro," Yuuri said proudly.

* * *

Everything went well for a while.

After the embarrassing incident with Suzu- _sensei_ , Viktor stayed close by Yuuri's side. They took the connecting hallway to the dining hall, where Viktor marveled at the myriads of lanterns hanging above their heads, the gold sliding doors depicting paintings of dragons and crashing waves, and the sheer simplicity of the long black tables, lined with ordinary black chairs. Then they sat by the zen gardens hidden in the far west, shoulder-to-shoulder, gazing silently at the rocks and circular patterns in the sand. Following that were the dormitories on the east side, where they ran into Yuuri's elderly Transfiguration teacher, who Viktor charmed far too easily into a giggling, blushing mess.

("Aw, Yuuri, are you jealous?" Viktor cooed while Yuuri fiercely dragged him away by the arm.)

Next were the classrooms, the library, and finally, the infamous training grounds of the Toyohashi Tengus on the outer perimeter of the north end.

At least, that was the plan, until Viktor went missing.

Again.

"Vi'tenka," Yuuri shouted between cupped hands.

His voice traveled down the empty hallway, with no response in return.

Midway through their tour of the classrooms, Viktor had wandered off somehow – his second disappearing act of the day. Although Mahoutokoro was by no means a magical labyrinth like Hogwarts – no revolving staircases, for one – there was no telling what sort of trouble his lover might get himself into this time.

Frustrated, Yuuri sank his hands into his hair. Stay calm, he reminded himself, sucking in a slow, deep breath and closing his eyes. Stay calm and think.

If he were an overzealous, impulsive, _irresponsible_ international celebrity, where would he go?

* * *

In amazement, Viktor glanced down at the book in his hand. One minute he was tugging out a book from a shelf in Yuuri's old Charm class, and the next, he felt a strange sensation, like a hook yanking him behind the navel, pulling him to some unknown destination.

And now, here he was, standing in a room that was definitely not Yuuri's old Charm class.

"A portkey," Viktor mumbled.

What use would there be for a portkey in a classroom?

Carefully, he placed the book on the desk in front of him, before turning to examine his surroundings, wand hand sinking into his pants pocket.

The room appeared to be an office of sorts. The walls, like many of the rooms in Mahoutokoro, held paintings of trees and water, while the windows had wispy, cream-colored curtains framing the sides. On the wooden desk lay a quill dipped in an ink pad, and a stack of parchments sitting under a heavy slab of mutton-fat jade. Behind the desk was a swivel chair, and there was a round table with sofas closer to the center of the room. A bookshelf, bursting with books, could be found in a corner, lined with bonsai trees on the top. The Japanese national flag stood in another corner, the red sun hidden beneath white folds.

"Oh my," said a soft voice, high and tinkling like bells in the distance. "What have we here?"

Viktor whipped round, wand at the ready.

It was a young woman, small in stature and dressed in gold robes, patterns of chrysanthemums and lilies flowing gently across the fabric. Her head was tilted in a gesture of curiosity, hair ornaments letting out tiny _clink_ s with the movement _._

"You're not a student," she observed, raising a sleeve to ruby lips, "Nor are you fully human."

Viktor frowned. "How did you – "

The woman smiled then, pupils dilating: red, with dancing flecks of gold.

Eyes narrowing, Viktor kept his wand steady. "You're not human."

"No, but I am more human than some that were born in this form," she said regally. For a moment, she gazed at him in silence, red eyes roving up and down his figure.

And then she clapped her hands together, startling him with the sudden motion.

"You must be Katsuki- _san_ 's beau," she said cheerily. "I have just received reports from Suzu- _sensei_ of a silver-haired idiot trespassing school grounds with our dear alum."

Viktor lowered his wand, barely holding back a pout. "Silver-haired idiot?"

Ignoring the question, the woman bowed low and deep, ornaments dangling.

"I am Miyo, Headmistress of Mahoutokoro."

* * *

"Mahoutokoro has a small student population, and with its capacity to enlarge, my office is a safe space in the event of an emergency. That is why we have hidden portkeys in every classroom. A teacher must have left one out by mistake, though it is unlikely for a student to pick that particular book."

"Why wouldn't students want to read about dark magic?"

"Because it's in a classroom for Advanced Charms. Most of my Charms students harbor little to no interest in the Dark Arts."

Leaning back on the sofa, Viktor clicked his tongue. "Pity. I think the Dark Arts would be an excellent addition for a Charms expert."

"Hmm." Miyo arched a fine eyebrow. "And what does Katsuki- _san_ make of that?"

"Yuuri's fairly determined to beat Durmstrang's teachings out of me," Viktor chuckled.

"I see." Miyo's red lips curved, stark against snow-white skin. "Nikiforov- _san_ – "

"Please, call me Viktor."

"Viktor- _san_ ," Miyo amended smoothly. _"_ Why do you suppose I haven't summoned Katsuki- _san_ to my office?"

"Because you'd like to have a private conversation about Yuuri," said Viktor without hesitation.

The Headmistress let out a soft laugh. "Perhaps Suzu- _sensei_ has sold you short."

"He's not the first," Viktor shrugged. "What would you like to know, Ms. Miyo?"

"Ah, that is where you misunderstand, I'm afraid. I have no questions to ask."

Viktor's eyebrows knitted in confusion, seconds before he squeezed back into the sofa cushions, heart leaping to his throat.

Miyo's form was expanding before him, growing into a wavering vision with blood-red eyes, sharp claws, and nine, waving tails.

"Should any harm befall Katsuki Yuuri by your hands, We will find you." Her voice echoed and boomed, sharp as a knife, ricocheting off the office walls, and Viktor curled further into the sofa. "To the ends of the earth, We will find you, and exact divine retribution upon your unfortunate soul."

Then, as suddenly as she had transformed, she was back in human form, hands resting primly on her knees.

"And now, I shall summon our beloved," she said with a soft smile.

* * *

Yuuri bowed repeatedly to the Headmistress, apologizing profusely for causing trouble, and wasting her precious time, and oh, causing _so much_ trouble.

Waving away his apologies, Miyo stated that she had a wonderful time with Viktor. She expressed her delight with Yuuri's visit, and encouraged him to _please do come again with your lovely beau._

"We reached an understanding," she added winsomely.

"I'm… glad to hear that," said Yuuri, unsure of how else to respond.

Viktor was surprisingly quiet throughout the exchange, and he remained quiet through their flight home.

"Did something happen between you two?" Yuuri asked after a while.

"You have a formidable Headmistress," Viktor replied, grip tightening round Yuuri's waist.

Yuuri held his broom steady and turned back, eyes soft with concern. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Viktor pressed a kiss on Yuuri's cheek. "But thank you."

They spoke no more of their visit after that.

* * *

The next time Yuuri offered another tour of his alma mater, Viktor politely declined.

* * *

Notes

I've modeled the layout and design of Mahoutokoro after the Kyoto imperial palace in Japan. The Throne Hall is an actual building in the inner palace where official functions are held. Most Japanese palaces/castles have the same interior design: gold screens and sliding doors with paintings of nature, animals, or water on them, wood or tatami floors, and space. Lots and lots of space.

And yes, Yuuri speaks Bird. He can understand far better than he can speak, so he still talks to Vicchan in Japanese.

I've set up a compiled list of requests on Tumblr dreaming-fireflies on my #drabbles and #list tags. Take a look if you're interested to see what's on the list. :3


	15. A New Beginning

**CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT.**

 _ **Author's Notes:**_ _Not fulfilling any particular request, unless we count the ones asking for "steamy Victuuri" or NSFW, because, baby, we finally have some in this one! 8D_

 _But in all seriousness, this drabble is special to me, because it's... well, it's The End. It's how I envision Entwining Fates ending. And maybe this might turn into a sequel with a backwards chronology kinda thing? We shall see. :3_

 _In any case, please enjoy!_

* * *

Viktor finds him in Minako's dance studio.

It's an easy search: in the days leading to a national Quidditch match, no matter how grueling the day's training, no matter how exhausting, Yuuri dances.

Viktor knows it's a habit born out of anxiety, a way to soothe himself before the night is over. Not wanting to interrupt Yuuri's solo performance, he closes the door carefully, silently, before settling against the wall, arms folding across his chest.

Ten years ago, this was how they met. On an exchange program, in Hogwart's Room of Requirements, he found a boy dancing beneath a silver crane, limbs reaching and stretching, bending and curving. He never dreamed it would be the same raven-haired beauty he fell desperately in love with on Mahoutokoro's open courtyard. ' _The Dance of the Crane_ " it was called, and indeed, the boy flew with the grace of a crane, his exquisite aerial dances drawing a whirlwind of silver and blue in the cloudless sky.

And while the very same boy – no, _man_ – now dances with just as much grace and elegance as his younger days, Viktor sees a difference. His hair is longer, so much longer, and oh, how radiant Yuuri looks as he twirls, dark strands caressing cheeks and nose and silky eyelashes. But more importantly, there's confidence now, a quiet sense of certainty in his spins and arches. Even his features are soft and relaxed, no longer twisted with a pain that he once buried deep inside.

Sliding to the floor in a front split, Yuuri ends his dance, one arm rising into the air, bending his back far enough for the top of his head to touch the wood tiles – a perfectly arched bow.

On his outstretched hand, gold glints under the bright studio lights.

Smiling, Viktor claps his hands together, and Yuuri straightens, surprise flitting across his face.

"Bravo, bravo," he says, recalling his words on that fateful night. "That was wonderful."

Rising to his feet, Yuuri laughs, warm and open and _free_. "How'd you know where to find me?"

"I always know where to find you," says Viktor easily.

There's a pause. Yuuri's eyes rove up and down Viktor's figure, before he lets out a gasp, hands flying to his cheeks. "Your speech! Your speech is tonight!"

Self-consciously, Viktor runs a hand down the thick fabric, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. He hasn't worn his Durmstrang uniform for years, but the Headmaster was persistent, the elderly warlock rattling on and on about how it would greatly boost students' morale to see their International Quidditch idol dressed in the same formal wear.

"It's just a graduation speech," he says, shrugging. "You really don't have to come."

"But I'd like to," Yuuri huffs. "I'll be quick, I promise."

He turns to bend for his towel.

Viktor lets his eyes slip to the fine curves of Yuuri's ass, prominent under black dance tights, before he forms a mental image of the towel and idly flicks his wrist.

Yuuri blinks as the towel soars out of his hand and into Viktor's.

"Let me," says Viktor.

"Show off," Yuuri says, bemused, even as he traverses the dance floor to Viktor's side.

"You'll get the hang of wandless spells soon," Viktor assures, tugging Yuuri closer.

He takes his time, dabbing the towel on Yuuri's cheeks and forehead, tenderly tracing the line of his jaw, catching every bead of sweat with each stroke. And when Yuuri gazes at him with those beautiful brown eyes, he's filled with such a sudden _need_ that his heart beats fast and his hand starts to shake.

It scares him how much he needs Yuuri: how much he wants to hold his lover and never let go; how much he fears losing him, the way he lost his mother.

The Tengus' last Quidditch match tore him apart.

He still hears the sickening crunch of the Bludger in his nightmares; sees Yuuri's limp form plummeting from the sky.

Healing magic and potions had his lover recovering within weeks – "It's just a broken arm, Viten'ka," Yuuri says, kissing away his tears – but something about that day resurfaced an old feeling in him; the feeling he had each time he faced his mother's disapproval, pulled taut and tight as a string about to snap.

So in the spur of the moment, he proposed.

He had been thinking about it, of course, organized a surprise event and everything, but the smell of bleach, the white sheets, and Yuuri's pale, pale face drove him to secure Yuuri in his life the only way he knew how.

But he proposed in a _hospital_ , and his little star deserves so much better.

"Yuuri," he murmurs, pausing in his ministrations. " _Moya zvezdochka_ , I – "

"I know," Yuuri whispers, cupping his cheek, gold band cold against his skin.

And then he kisses Viktor, soft and loving and so forgiving.

There is a difference indeed.

Ten years ago, 16-year-old Yuuri turned scarlet red just from holding hands.

Now, well: now the same man tips his head and deepens the kiss _he_ initiated, letting out a noise that's low and so very filthy.

"I'm very much enjoying this new turn of events, but…" Viktor pants, hands tangling in dark locks of hair, "…let's not forget about my big speech."

"Are you actually being responsible?" Yuuri teases, mouthing the words across his jaw.

"Mmhm~" Viktor lifts Yuuri's chin and drops kisses on his lips, his cheeks. "Is that so surprising?"

Yuuri grins, and repeats, "I'll be quick, I promise."

Then he drops to his knees, and Viktor's blood shoots straight to his dick.

* * *

Yuuri isn't kidding about being quick: he makes fast work of the Durmstrang belt, and in seconds, Viktor's pants and underwear are pooling just below his knees, caught by his heavy boots.

Viktor exhales shakily as Yuuri smooths hands up his thighs, squeezes his ass; gasps as fingers and tongue dance against sensitive skin.

"Yuuri," he swallows his tongue, when Yuuri wraps a hand round his cock and gives a firm stroke, _once_ , up and down. " _Please_."

"Already?" Yuuri giggles, holding him steady at the base, thumb rubbing so _teasing_ and evil and driving all coherence from his brain.

"Yes," he says, unable to say anything more.

He lets out a choked scream when Yuuri, obligingly, swallows him whole.

His lover doesn't like giving head; it's a sentiment he once declared loud and clear, right after his first messy attempt.

But _god_ , does he give good head.

Breathing hard, Viktor curls his hands into Yuuri's hair and pulls at the elastic band, watching dark hair spill over narrow shoulders. He's so exquisite, so beautifully divine.

And when Yuuri openly moans around his dick, the vibrations sending sparks up his spine, he swears loosely in Russian, eyes fluttering shut.

It's getting harder to fight the urge to roll his hips; snap in deeper, harder. Lose himself in Yuuri's wet heat.

"Viten'ka," Yuuri sighs then, full of love and affection, and just like that, he's _lost_ , coming so hard and sudden that he feels his heart explode behind his eyelids.

When he returns, Yuuri is fastening his belt, peering up at him through long eyelashes.

"Good?" Yuuri asks shyly.

"Amazing," Viktor rasps.

Yuuri nods, looking pleased, and then he's all business. "Okay, well, I'd better change so we can maybe Apparate _right now_ before you miss the entire graduation cere— _mmh_!"

Viktor kisses him to swallow the rest of his words, rocking shamelessly against the hard bulge straining against black tights.

" _Ah_ ," Yuuri gasps. "Your– your speech…"

"It can wait," Viktor breathes.

* * *

Durmstrang is nothing like Hogwarts or Mahoutokoro.

The stone structure is cold and dark, almost akin to the dungeons where Hogwarts holds its potion classes, or the deepest regions of Mahoutokoro's forest, where Japan's magical creatures thrive.

Hastening down the carpeted stairs of the large assembly hall – red, so much _red_ – Yuuri quickly locates his seat in the front row, slipping into the empty chair. He curls into the seat and tucks the ends of his navy-blue robes between his knees, averting his gaze from the hard stares around him.

He can't blame them; they arrived at Durmstrang Institute a full hour after Viktor's scheduled time.

It never fails to amaze him how little his lover cares about such matters.

("Now, now," says Viktor brightly in the face of the Headmaster's fury, "It wouldn't do for the students' morale to see their Headmaster yelling at their idol, would it?")

Even now, striding to the podium on stage, the Russian is unfazed by the low murmurings of the professors in the front row. Yuuri wonders if he should crawl under the seats to join the students, who appear far more receptive to Viktor's presence.

At the podium, Viktor presses two fingers lightly against his neck, before spreading his arms wide.

"My dear students," he says – and his voice echoes above a wave of _whoa_ ; _did you see that_ ; _wandless!_ – "I deeply apologize for my tardiness. I hope you do not see this as my disinterest in speaking to you on your most important day, but merely my weakness when it comes to resisting my lovely fiancé."

A ripple of laughter. He winks at Yuuri, who slaps his palms to his face and sinks deeper into the seat.

On second thought, this may have been a really bad idea.

* * *

Viktor's prepared speech is, thankfully, not quite as embarrassing as Yuuri anticipates.

He talks about failure. He talks about the reality of life, of disappointing family and friends, of the sheer frustration of falling short of expectations. He speaks of the injuries he attained to achieve his status as a national Seeker, the many rejections the Siberian Sirins had to face before they were finally recognized as a national team. He emphasizes the importance of accepting failure and learning from mistakes.

And then, to Yuuri's surprise, he turns to the topic of dark magic.

"As Durmstrang students, we are trained in the art of dark magic. Unlike the rest of Europe, our professors have taught us the skill to manipulate and control the Dark Arts, not to fear it. You will find, in your venture beyond our honored school, that many will question this aspect of your education. They will question your morals, ask why you would tolerate such unfortunate magic."

"And I would know," he flashes a grin in Yuuri's direction, "I'm engaged to a Hogwarts alum."

Laughter again, while Yuuri gives him a smile in return.

"Yet, their questions are not without reason," Viktor continues. "Dark magic has been besmirched by the Dark Wizards who use it for their nefarious purposes. Morgan le Fay. Gellert Grindelwald. Voldemort. So what differs us from these wizards? What can make us immune to the siren call of evil, despite our practice of the Dark Arts?"

Yuuri sits up straighter in his seat as Viktor pauses, casting a sweeping glance at his enraptured audience.

"Love," he says, and Yuuri's heart swells.

"Love for your sister, your father, your grandmother. Love for your friends, your partner, your spouse. Love for strangers, and even the person sitting next to you today. Love is something Dark Wizards fail to understand, something they desperately lack. We may not know the true power of love, but we know its wonders."

Viktor exhales slowly. " _I_ know its wonders," he appends. "I have never known love – true love. My childhood was a lonely one, the details of which I shall not disclose, lest we have a certain tabloid reporter in our midst."

He raises his voice over the light chuckles. "But then I met Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki: my sun, my moon, and my stars. Yuuri Katsuki is my everything. He taught me to love unconditionally; to find perfections in our imperfections. He taught me true love. And suddenly, the world became bigger, brighter. Suddenly, the world had _meaning_."

"True love heals. True love _protects._ And no amount of dark magic will ever change that."

Yuuri doesn't hear the rest of Viktor's speech. His eyes burn and his chest trembles, shaking with each hard inhale. No, no, no, he chants to himself. He's not supposed to cry – not in front of Viktor's juniors and professors. Not in the middle of Viktor's alma mater.

Seven years.

It took him seven years to return to the Quidditch pitch; another three to finally feel at home on his broomstick.

And for seven years, Viktor waited. Encouraged and nudged, but never pushed.

Viktor saw something in him that he failed to see in himself, ever since that fateful meeting in Mahoutokoro – a meeting that Yuuri doesn't remember. It was only in recognizing Viktor's love that, slowly, gradually, he began to love himself.

And it scares Yuuri how much he needs Viktor: how much he wants to hold Viktor and never let go; how much he fears losing him.

He dreads the day Viktor grows fed up of him and leaves.

So when Viktor proposed in the hospital, all hiccups and stutters, eyes swollen from tears, Yuuri said yes. Because he finally realized, blinking hazily as Viktor fumbles for his hand on the Quidditch pitch, begging him to _please don't leave me; please_ , that Viktor needs him too.

(He proposed to Viktor after he was discharged; he had hidden the gold band in his coat pocket for weeks.)

 _True love heals._

Shuddering, Yuuri drops his head in his hands, trying hard to stifle the sniffles.

Yuri's right; he _is_ a wimpy crybaby.

"Yuuri?"

It's Viktor, his voice tinged with worry.

Surely, he didn't come off stage before the end of his speech?

Yuuri raises his head, pawing furiously at his eyes. "I– I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," he hiccups, "Please, don't mind me– "

"Oh my love," Viktor murmurs. "I could never do that."

He pulls Yuuri into his arms, kisses his cheeks and nose. "I'm here, _moya zvezdochka_. I'm always here."

The dam breaks, and Yuuri lets go.

* * *

"I can't believe I cried till the end of your speech."

Viktor turns to Yuuri, who clambers onto their bed and presses sheepishly into his bare chest. "I think it's sweet that my speech touched you so," he says, dropping a hand to Yuuri's thigh.

Yuuri sighs, taking his hand to lace their fingers, gold bands clinking together.

"Does this mean you'll try some dark magic now?"

"No," says Yuuri, ignoring Viktor's pout. "But it does mean I'm… slightly more agreeable to you practicing the Dark Arts."

"Only slightly?" Viktor hums and brings their joined hands to his lips, brushing them lightly against Yuuri's knuckles. "You do realize we blew each other in Minako's studio today?"

"Oh god." Yuuri's chin falls to his chest. "Don't remind me."

"You started it," Viktor chuckles.

"I know," Yuuri groans. "I don't know what came over me then, either. Must be something about that uniform."

"Or my irresistible Veela charm?"

Yuuri shoots him a glare. "You didn't."

"As much as I like to take the credit, today was all you, my sexy little star."

"Aahh, don't, that makes me sound like some sort of porn star!"

"Now there's an idea," Viktor's face lights up.

Yuuri flails. "What, _no_ , that's – "

A shrill tone starts to ring, and he practically leaps across the bed to grapple for something on the bedside table.

"Hello," he says breathlessly into the rectangular device.

What was it Yuuri called that thing? A 'sell-phone'?

"Yuu-chan, slow down, I can't understand a word you're saying."

Viktor smiles as Yuuri furrows his eyebrows and nods in time to some invisible voice. He finds it adorable how Yuuri speaks to that muggle object the same way he speaks to others in person: falling into a polite stance, head dipping in tiny bows.

"Wait, really? It did? But, how? … right, of course you wouldn't know. Can you send me a photo? Thanks."

Yuuri's hand falls, the sell-phone flipping onto the bed. Then he flops onto his back, and for a moment, doesn't speak – just fixes his stare on some point on the ceiling.

Viktor reaches for him. "What's wrong?" he asks softly.

Slowly, Yuuri rolls to face him, brown eyes open wide. "My school robes…"

"They've turned gold."

* * *

Notes:

I've set up a compiled list of requests on Tumblr dreaming-fireflies on my #drabbles and #list tags. Take a look if you're interested to see what's on the list. :3


	16. Sick

_Author's Notes: For request - **"THE CLASSIC SICK BOYFRIEND CHAPTER YAS"**_

 _It actually turned out to be not very classic at all, because of Yuuri lol. But I hope you like it!_

* * *

When Viktor fell sick, he tended to turn limp, sad, and helpless.

Purebloods were supposed to recover with great ease from common maladies like the flu, but Viktor would flop, boneless, on any soft surface he can find – the couch, the bed, Yuuri's belly – and melt into it like jello seeping into the cracks of a heated sidewalk. And Yuuri pampered him in return: he fixed Viktor porridge, dabbed his brow lovingly with a cold compress, and gave him kisses every night – more than he usually did. (Yuri once yelled at Yuuri for "feeding into the idiot's neediness", but neither of them listened nor cared.)

When Yuuri fell sick, on the other hand, he powered through in determined silence.

He knew Viktor hated it. The first time the Russian showed genuine anger was also the first time he found Yuuri sprawled on his stomach after Quidditch practice, breathing lightly, cheek pressed against the cold kitchen tiles in a bid to cool his feverish skin.

So when the Tengu players forcibly dragged him home because of a fever – just a _fever_ , god – he wasn't surprised to find Viktor radiating quiet fury at the front door.

"What have I told you about staying home when you're sick?" said Viktor.

Yuuri shivered; the man's smile wasn't reaching his eyes. "I'm fine," he protested, before his vision wavered, and he shook his head to clear the growing haze in his mind.

" _Fine_ ," he said again. (Mind over matter; mind over matter.)

"I don't think so," said his teammate, frowning. "For starters, you threw the Quaffle into Mishima's face."

"You flew in circles at one point," said another.

"You weren't even flying straight," Mishima pointed out nervously.

Yuuri noted, with some guilt, that the timid new Keeper was sporting a bruised eye.

"Okay," he conceded, deflating, "So I need a little rest – _hey_!"

Viktor had slipped an arm under his knees and heaved him into his arms like some sort of damsel in distress.

"Thank you," said his lover, voice smooth and silky as satin, "I'll take it from here."

"Viten'ka, I have to go back to practice," Yuuri yelped, legs kicking in the air. When Viktor ignored his plea, turning to stride down the hallway, he pushed down on the lean shoulder and reached desperately for his teammates. "Wait, _Mishima_ – "

"Feel better soon, Yuuri," Mishima waved before the door closed behind them.

* * *

All right, Yuuri had to admit: he did feel a lot better lying on the soft mattress, an icy-cold towel on his forehead and Viktor pressed against him. His lover had one arm draped lazily on his hip, their limbs tangling under the blankets.

But it didn't change the fact that he was missing an important training session.

"The Tengus have a match in two days," Yuuri grumbled. "I can't afford to do nothing at home."

"You're resting." Viktor admonishingly nipped the skin just below his ears, and Yuuri felt his body heat up further. (Wasn't he supposed to _lower_ his fever?) "Resting is not nothing."

"But the pureblood players don't fall ill, and I don't want the team thinking of my muggle-born status as some kind of liability – "

Yuuri paused.

The arm on his hip had tensed, Viktor's hand clenching into a fist.

"There's a reason Quidditch teams have reserve players," Viktor said quietly.

Eyes darting to the ceiling, Yuuri swallowed, his insides curling at the mute anger in Viktor's voice. He never quite understood why the Russian was so insistent about rest whenever he fell ill. His own family adhered to the _don't stop unless you're dying_ attitude, in which chicken porridge, white face masks, and loving encouragement (or in Mari's case, mean words) were used to help the sick member carry on their day without interruption.

"I don't mean to worry you," he said, turning to face Viktor, fumbling blindly for his lover's hand under the covers. Once found, he gripped it, squeezing tight. "But it's really just a fever."

Viktor let out a long exhale. "That's how it starts," he mumbled, pressing his nose into the crook of Yuuri's neck.

"How what starts?" Yuuri asked, confused.

"The decline."

"Into?"

Viktor lifted his head and shot Yuuri a look.

"I have a bad fever," Yuuri muttered defensively.

"Oh, _now_ you have a bad fever," Viktor chuckled. He touched the towel on Yuuri's forehead, testing its temperature, before raising himself to a sitting position and leaning against the headboard, head falling back with a dull _thud_. His expression was soft, wistful; blue eyes staring into some point in the distance.

"My mother's illness started with a fever."

"Oh," said Yuuri, suddenly feeling foolish.

That's right. Viktor's mother had died of a lifelong magical illness, one that deteriorated her physically and mentally – a terrible secret, hidden from her own son and revealed only upon her death. A death that happened on the same day the Siberian Sirins won the championship title; the very day Viktor brought home the trophy, expecting, _hoping_ , to finally receive his mother's approval.

How could he have forgotten that?

"I'm sorry," Yuuri whispered, reaching up to cup Viktor's cheek. The towel slipped off to pool by the side of his head, a cold sensation against his ear.

And then he felt his lover's cheek lift in a tiny smile, before a warm hand covered his.

"Just promise me you'll rest the next time you're feeling sick," Viktor said, turning to press a feathery kiss against his palm.

Yuuri hesitated. "Um, how sick, exactly?"

Blue-green eyes narrowed, beautifully harsh as the stormy sea.

"I promise," Yuuri sighed.

"Good," Viktor purred, and he shifted, leaning down to capture Yuuri's mouth.

He released a soft noise as Viktor prodded his lips open and stole his breath away. It wasn't so bad, really, being in bed with Viktor in the middle of the day, melting into shared kisses, warm and slow and lazy.

Until he remembered he had a fever.

"Wait, we shouldn't," he gasped, pushing Viktor off. "You'll catch my germs."

"Germs?" Viktor grinned and showered Yuuri's cheeks and nose with light kisses, before stopping to mouth wetly across his jaw, "Sounds like cute things to catch."

Yuuri shuddered, peering up through dark lashes. "You purebloods really need to learn some basic science."

"And you really need to stop talking," Viktor murmured.

Neither of them spoke for a while after that.

* * *

"Yuuuuuri," Viktor whined from the bedroom. "I'm dying."

"You're not dying," Yuuri clucked his tongue. Lifting the ladle, he tried a taste of porridge and nodded in satisfaction. "You just caught my 'cute things'."

"They're not cute anymore."

"They weren't cute to begin with."

"I'm dying," Viktor repeated miserably.

"Poor baby," Yuuri cooed as he ladled porridge into an odd-shaped bowl – Viktor's valiant attempt at muggle pottery lessons.

"Feed me?"

"Of course."

* * *

Notes:

I've set up a compiled list of requests on Tumblr dreaming-fireflies on my #drabbles and #list tags. Take a look if you're interested to see what's on the list. :3


	17. Inexplicable

_Author's Notes: For request -_ _**"Can I request more little Yuuri, like the first time the family noticed he has magical powers? Thank youuuu!"**_

 _Or, five times the Katsuki's didn't understand what was going on, and one time they kinda did._

 _It, uh, took a bit of an angsty turn. I can't seem to write smol Yuuri without making him an anxious little ball. Hope you still like it!_

* * *

 **1 –**

"What are you doing?"

Yuuri tried to look up from where he was sitting, chin lifting higher and higher and higher, until he tipped over backwards, flopping onto the cool grass. He giggled in the stern face of his sister as it loomed over him; she looked funny upside-down.

"Talking to my new friends," he beamed, lips pulling back to reveal the gap in his front teeth.

"Friends?" she said in a tone that suggested they were _not_ friends. Yuuri's grin fell.

"They're very nice," he told her, lower lip trembling. "They don't call me names, or laugh when I cry, or say I smell like fried pork."

"Yuuri," she sighed, and now she sounded like their mother after he used her lipstick in lieu of the pink crayon that ran away to live behind the fridge.

"They're _birds_."

"But–"

"C'mon, crazypants. Mom's calling us for dinner."

Yuuri let his sister haul him to his feet. As she took his hand, he glanced over his shoulder, throat closing over a quiet sob. "Bye bye," he said miserably, raising a chubby hand to give a small wave.

The crows watched after him with soft, beady eyes.

 **2 –**

He wanted to stop crying. He really did. But the older boys outside were making it difficult, pounding at the closet doors and shouting loud, mean things. His father told him it was okay to cry, and his mother never minded when he did, but everyone else didn't seem to want him crying.

 _Boys don't cry,_ was his classmates' rallying cry, and kindergarten became a nightmare come alive.

"Are you still crying?"

"Stop crying, crybaby!"

Shaking, he screwed his eyes shut, clapping his hands over his ears.

 _Please_ , he thought as the pounding grew more insistent. _Make them stop._

 _Make them stop!_

Something jolted past him then, brushing against his shoulder, before bursting through the closet doors.

There's yelps, and then screams.

Slowly, he uncurled and opened his eyes.

The boys were huddled together, arms held protectively over their heads, while a broomstick – an ordinary broomstick – rained blows on them with startling brutality.

"Katsuki, _help_ ," they wailed, globules of tears rolling, fat and ugly, down their cheeks.

He drew in a shaky breath, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Boys don't cry," he said serenely.

 **3 –**

He didn't know how it happened.

One minute Minako was encouraging him to try the grand jeté in front of the entire ballet class; the next, he's on his butt on the other side of the dance studio, dazed and sporting a mild bruise on his forehead.

"I'm not sure, Hiroko, he just – _flew_ into the mirrors—"

"Mommy, mommy, that boy jumped across the _whole_ floor!"

"Don't point, honey, he can't help it if he's odd…"

Yuuri hung his head low, hoping his bangs could obscure his glistening eyes and scorched cheeks.

"I just don't know," he heard his mother sigh, and he could envision her resting a hand on her cheek in mild distress. "I thought ballet might keep him out of trouble, but…"

"The thing is," he flinched when a warm hand ruffled his mess of hair, "I don't think it's intentional."

Lifting his gaze, he caught Minako's smile and found no judgment in her eyes.

The next week, Yuuri made the leap – a perfect split in mid-air.

 **4 –**

Yuuko was a god-send.

She was bright and sweet and, most importantly, she wanted to be his friend.

So when Yuuko said she'd visit on Sunday, Yuuri was determined to make the inn one hundred percent perfect for her. He cleaned his room, put away his toys, and laid a bunch of her favorite comic books across his desk. To his mother, he gave a list of Yuuko's favorite food, written in gold crayon; to his father, he gave stern warnings about overdrinking. His sister couldn't be persuaded – she listened to no one – but he would keep an eye on her and made sure she behaved.

All seemed ready for Yuuko's arrival.

And then, right at the entrance at Yu-topia Akatsuki, disaster struck.

"Do you have any melon soda?" Yuuko asked cheerfully. "I love melon soda."

"I don't think we do, Yuuko-chan," said his mother.

"Aw," said Yuuko, looking crestfallen.

Yuuri didn't hear the rest of Yuuko's reply. The familiar sensations of panic were crawling up his chest, constricting and squeezing his ribs until he lost all breath.

This couldn't be happening. Everything was supposed to be _perfect._

He might have started hyperventilating, if it weren't for his sister's high-pitched shriek from the kitchen.

"The water's _green_!"

They rushed to the kitchen where Mari stood, frozen at the sink, directing a horrified expression toward the neon green liquid gushing out from the tap.

"Hey," said Yuuko, eyes sparkling, "That looks like melon soda!"

And, strangely, inexplicably – it was.

His frazzled parents called the plumbers, but by the time they arrived, it was as though the incident had never happened at all.

 **5 –**

After watching _Beauty and the Beast_ , Yuuri was filled with bubbles of happiness, and maybe even a hint of confidence. Belle was "a little odd", but she went on an adventure, met a prince, and fell in love. Who's to say fate didn't have plans for him?

He did meet Yuuko, after all, and she hadn't run away screaming yet, so—

"That was a dumb movie," Takeshi snorted.

Ah, right. Yuuko's new friend and neighbor.

"Must you always be such a grump," Yuuko huffed, dropping her hands on her hips like a frustrated grown-up. She stuck out a pink tongue. "Yuuri and I like it, so there!"

"Wha- well- then, why'd you invite me here!?" Takeshi spluttered, face turning a horrible shade of blotchy red.

"'cause you looked all sad and nervous standing outside my door!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

Every time they hung out, they bickered. Every time. Yuuko called Takeshi a 'stupid jerk', and Takeshi called Yuuko a 'bossy witch', but for some reason, Yuuko kept inviting the younger boy to their meet-ups anyway.

Yuuri didn't understand it, but he just wanted his friends to be happy.

He raised his voice over the shouting, "I, um!" He faltered, chin wobbling, when two heads snapped to him, before plunging onward. "I liked the scene when the candle was singing."

"Oh," Yuuko sighed, clasping her hands together, anger dissipating like smoke. "That was my favorite scene, too! It was so, so _magical_."

"Pssh," Takeshi rolled his eyes, "Magic's not real."

Yuuko whirled on him, fire in her big, brown eyes. "Magic _is_ real!"

Takeshi straightened up to tower over her. "It's tricks and illusions!"

"No it isn't!"

"Yes it is!"

Yuuri wrung his hands as he watched his friends in dismay. He felt so helpless. If he could just be like the French candle and make stuff dance, everyone would be happy, the same way Belle cheered up immensely after the fun performance. He furrowed his eyebrows, squeezed his eyes shut, and thought really, really hard, because that worked for him somehow back in the school closet, and maybe, just maybe, it might work again.

"You're stupid!"

"And you're a big bully!"

"Well you're a, a…" Takeshi trailed off, and choked. "What the—"

A beat, then Yuuko whooped, "Magic is real!"

When Yuuri cracked an eye open, he was relieved to find Yuuko twirling and whirling within a hovering ring of utensils that spun around her in a slow, gentle glide. A steady stream of forks and knives and spoons flowed from the direction of the kitchen to join in the impromptu dance circle, glinting under the dining hall lights.

Takeshi had his back to the wall, eyes practically bulging out of his head. "Tricks," he muttered, trembling wildly, "Illusions…"

"Yuuri," Yuuko beckoned, face alight with joy, "Come join me!"

Yuuri felt his heart soar, as he took a step toward the ring of utensils.

"What on earth," said his father from a distance away.

" _The kitchen knives_ ," his mother gasped.

Uh oh.

 **6 –**

"Yuuri dear! You have a visitor!"

Hurriedly, Yuuri scampered down the stairs, patting at the wrinkles on his oversized T-shirt. He wasn't expecting Yuuko or Takeshi today, so it had to be Minako- _sensei_ , who liked to chat with him briefly before she started drinks with his father and turned into a crazy, drooling mess.

But it wasn't Minako.

It was a small lady: no taller than his mother, but far, far daintier. Shiny ornaments dangled from a heavy head-dress, highlighting snowy skin and silky, dark tresses. And Yuuko would have adored her gold _kimono –_ an article of refined beauty with its patterns of flowers drifting languidly across the fabric, like lilies on a still pond.

He walked up to the front entrance and ducked behind his mother's work pants, breathing in the comforting scent of oil and deep-fried meat.

"I'm sorry, my Yuuri's a little shy," his mother laughed behind a palm.

The lady smiled, and he noticed her eyes. Crimson red, with gold flecks that danced, light and shimmering as jewels in a dwarf's mine.

"You have pretty eyes," he blurted out.

"Oh," she breathed then, soft and delicate and airy, one sleeve lifting to ruby red lips.

"He'll do very nicely."

* * *

Notes:

Melon soda is a fizzy drink that has the color of radioactive waste but tastes like sweet heaven. Very popular among Japanese children.

I believe that, unlike Hogwarts, Mahoutokoro actually sends representatives to each household to speak to parents and offer enrollment to their school, especially because they take kids in for day school at the age of seven. And Miyo personally chose to visit the Katsuki's, because Yuuri's magical powers were off the charts.

I've set up a compiled list of requests on Tumblr dreaming-fireflies on my #drabbles and #list tags. Take a look if you're interested to see what's on the list. :3


	18. Yuuri vs Yuri

_Author's Notes: For requests -_ **_"_ Maybe that Yura vs Yuuri match?"; "and now I'm interested in a drable about yuuri vs yuri chaser battle:D"; "And please make Yuri's dream one on one with Yuuri come true. I would love to read that."**

 _This takes place sometime after "All that glitters is not gold"._

* * *

"—another _impressive_ flight with Yuuri Katsuki, one of the best offensve Chasers I've seen in my _lifetime_ ; I'm telling you, you put a Quaffle in that wizard's hands and you can pretty much guarantee yourself 10 points, maybe a _hundred_ —"

"— _see that_ , what a masterful tackle by Yuri Plisetsky, the Sirins Chaser! The youngest national Chaser in a century, folks, rare as a Graphorn and just as aggressive! If you're marked by Plisetsky, I'd say you can kiss that Quaffle goodbye—"

* * *

Viktor and Yura were easy to spot: two blood-red dots hovering above the green, sun-lit pitch.

Yuuri swept up to where the Russians were waiting, relishing in the wind that whistled past his ears and swept through his robes. It was odd, flying out onto an empty pitch, surrounded by empty stadium seats and deafening silence. Within weeks of his return to the national league, Yuuri had grown far too accustomed to the crowd's cheers – the way it buzzed through his body like deep, throbbing vibration, the way it drove him to fly faster, higher.

"You're late." Yura wore a smirk that stretched wide and fierce across his face. "I just figured you weren't gonna show."

Yuuri laughed; he always admired Yura's natural ability for smack-talk. It was a skill he never quite grasped, despite Phichit's many attempts to teach him. "I'll make it up to you in the match," he said instead, before scooting over to press a kiss on Viktor's cheek. "Hi, Viten'ka."

" _Zvezdochka_ ~" Shifting the Quaffle to his other arm, Viktor tugged Yuuri by the elbow to kiss him full on the mouth. "I hope training wasn't too tiring," he crooned against Yuuri's smile, "Because I cannot wait to watch you eviscerate my cousin."

"And that is _exactly_ why I don't trust you with the timer," Yura snorted.

Viktor turned his gaze to the ground, where a dark-haired boy stood with a small hourglass in his hand, watching them with piercing eyes. "How is giving the timer to your boyfriend any less biased?"

"Beka doesn't let emotions get to his head," Yura huffed, rolling his eyes as though Viktor had asked the dumbest question he had ever heard. "Can we start now?"

"I'm ready." Yuuri tugged on his gloves, flexing his fingers. Long hours of training in muggy summer heat made for uncomfortable, sweat-soaked leather, and he rather missed training in the lightning and torrential rain. (Viktor, on the other hand, seemed almost relieved when Japan's rainy season ended. He hated the idea of Yuuri flying in thunderstorms.) "What are we playing? KAPPA?"

Yura gave a bark of laughter. "Please! Any Chaser at our level can shoot a dumb hoop." He lifted his chin and jammed a finger at Yuuri. "I challenge you to a one-on-one defense drill. Player with the Quaffle by the end of two minutes is the winner."

Of course. A defense drill involved one Chaser trying their utmost to steal the ball from the other – the perfect match for the league's best defense and its number one offense. Or, at least, that's what the announcers liked to call him. Yuuri always found it a tad exaggerated.

"Best two of three?" Yuuri clarified while Viktor swung into position, lining his broomstick up for the starting toss.

"Best two of three," Yura affirmed.

Nodding, Yuuri dropped both hands to his Nagareboshi and leaned forward with the familiar pulse of adrenaline coursing through him. It always started at the gates, as he listened to the dim thrum of chanting outside, the shrill whistles, the steady, rhythmic drum beats. Like the captain once said, it never went away. Not when he soared through the gates with his teammates, not when his trained eyes zeroed in on the red leathered ball among the chaos of flailing limbs and flying Bludgers.

And certainly not now, with Yura hovering across from him, jaw clenched and green eyes slanted in concentration.

Viktor nodded at Otabek, who gave a nod in return.

" _Davai_ , Yura," he added with a thumbs-up, and Yura broke out of his game face to flash an uncharacteristically bright grin.

"First drill out of three," Viktor announced, raising the Quaffle in front of him.

"Ready, and…"

Yuuri's muscles coiled up, tight as a spring.

In slow motion, the ball took a dip as Viktor lowered his arm, before rising up, up, up into the air.

"Go!"

The spring released, a single snap, and suddenly, the world was moving again, in time for Yuuri to snatch the Quaffle in mid-air and dive in a downward spiral. He heard Yura's hiss, knew the blond was on his tail like a ravenous bird of prey. It was going to be tough match; for all his games, Yura had yet to lose his mark on a player, and Yuuri had witnessed firsthand just how relentlessly the young Chaser pursued his target in the last match between Bulgaria and Russia.

In a Quidditch match, a Chaser could count on his Beaters and fellow Chasers to distract his opponents. But in a one-on-one defense drill, there was nothing to distract Yura – everything boiled down to agility and evasive flight maneuvers.

So Yuuri pulled all the stops: twisting, turning, sudden brakes and drops. He flew circles round the stadium turrets, spiraled up into the clouds, and twisted through the standing hoops. On the last drop, he swerved upright, seconds before he flattened against his broomstick and shot across the pitch, past Otabek's ankles and the quiet grunt of surprise.

Even then, even after all that effort, he could _feel_ Yura behind him, the shadow of his presence clinging like a leech to the end for his broom.

"60 seconds," Otabek called.

Had it only been a minute?

Yuuri felt as though he had been racing for hours.

He angled his broom and spun upwards, soaring past a radiant, heart-shaped smile and the warm shout of _you're almost there, Yuuri; my beautiful, talented little star!_ The sweet adoration gave him an extra burst of speed, and he hurtled through the sky, dodging and weaving in a zig-zag pattern.

"40 seconds."

A hand clawed against his robes, fingers curling in an attempt to grab the fabric. Yuuri turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse of Yura's bared teeth and burning eyes – eyes that were locked on the Quaffle tucked firmly under his arm. Fans dubbed Yura the Hawk of Russia for a reason.

"20 seconds."

"Yuuri~! _Moya zvezdochka_! _Wo ai ni_ ~!"

Right, that last one was definitely not Japanese. Yuuri stifled a snort, using the spark of amusement to flip over in mid-flight until the world turned topsy-turvy, his ponytail falling and brushing the edge of Yura's robes.

"What the f—" Yura managed, before Yuuri plunged down in a wide arc, breathing steadily in and out, fighting against the rush of blood to his head.

"10 seconds."

"Goddammit-!"

Yura was closing the gap. Fast.

"5 seconds."

Gritting his teeth, Yuuri dove faster.

"4…"

The ground flew up, the grass looking greener, sharper.

"3…"

 _Pull up_ , Yuuri's mind screeched.

Behind, Yura sucked in a sharp intake of breath.

"2…"

Someone was screaming now.

Or was that him?

"1…"

At the last second, inches off the ground, Yuuri flung himself off the broomstick, body curling round the Quaffle as he landed. The sudden impact knocked the breath out of his lungs, and he was sure to have a bruise or two, but that wasn't the important bit. The important bit was—

" _Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov_."

Blood chilling in his veins, Yuuri unfolded to look up into the smiling face of his husband – the smile that made the pretty mouth curve and the blue eyes promise instant, merciless death.

"Um," said Yuuri in a tiny voice. "At least I won the first round?"

As Viktor's smile deepened, reminding Yuuri with a shudder of the white fox masks at the shopping arcade, he heard clapping in the background, slow and controlled.

"Congratulations," Otabek said solemnly.

"He's mad," Yura protested. "Who the hell flies _upside-down_ and _doesn't_ _stop_ a downwards dive?"

"Yes," said Viktor, his voice low. "Who indeed?"

The last two rounds were cancelled—"Postponed," Yura corrected with a scowl—until Yuuri learned a valuable lesson on How Not to Give Your Husband A Heart Attack.

* * *

Notes

KAPPA: Quidditch version of the basketball game HORSE. As you'd imagine, the stunts can get pretty crazy in KAPPA. :D

Wo ai ni: "I love you" in Mandarin. Viktor hears it sometimes from his Chinese fans and loves the way it sounds - maybe a little too much.

I've set up a compiled list of requests on Tumblr dreaming-fireflies on my #drabbles and #list tags. Take a look if you're interested to see what's on the list.

Also, please note that requests are currently closed while I try to work through the backlog. ^^;; Thank you!


	19. Empathy

_Author's Notes: For requests -_ **_"_ Now I want to see Victor trying out different knick knack charms XD"; "… can you at least insert any of the golden trio here too? uwu…"**

Quick and dirty and totally unedited. Let me know if you find any errors!

* * *

When Viktor suggested meeting at the front of a shopping arcade, Yura should have known that he was in for some ridiculous gift hunt. The man had an uncanny ability to buy the perfect gift if he actually remembered the occasion, but he became paralyzed with indecision when it came to Yuuri. Not because he didn't know what to get, oh no. Because he had so many ideas, he didn't know where to start.

Yuuri's first national match was in a week, which meant a celebratory home-cooked meal with all of Yuuri's closest friends the night before the event—Yura's heart did _not_ warm at being invited; shut the hell up—and a romantic, thoughtful present from his loving boyfriend. Who was now agonizing over whether said romantic, thoughtful present ought to be a pack of wishing gum, a katana that sang show tunes each time it was drawn, or hundreds of adorable but useless gem stones that could be charmed to form _Viktor loves Yuuri: always and forever_.

God, was there ever a bigger idiot?

"—or maybe these strange eggs," Viktor exclaimed, pointing at a black package behind a display window. "Yuuri likes them!"

Yura scowled. "I came for a free dinner, not some stupid shopping trip."

Viktor's eyes widened innocently. "Help me out, and I promise to make your favorite kind of borsht."

"What do you think I am, a cat?" Viktor opened his mouth, " _Don't_ answer that." Yura let out a long exhale. "I like your first idea about getting him a lucky charm for his first match. Probably has the most meaning out of all your dumb ideas."

Viktor tapped his chin thoughtfully with a forefinger, ignoring the jibe. "I do like that idea. But we haven't come across a store with lucky charms, have we?"

"I have lucky charms, Mister."

The voice was soft and lightly accented, and Yura felt a sudden dip in temperature, goosebumps crawling across his skin. It took him several seconds to realize that the voice was coming from a little girl – she stood by Viktor with dull and glossy eyes, long, unkempt hair falling over a flat expression.

And she was frighteningly translucent.

"Not interested," Yura snapped, just as Viktor beamed. "Which ones do you have?"

As the girl mutely stuck her hand in her kimono, Yura snagged Viktor by the collar, jerking him down to eye level. "She's a ghost," Yura hissed. "Grandpa said to never trust dead salespeople."

"Settle down, Yura," Viktor laughed, tugging Yura's fingers off and straightening his collar, "She's just a child."

"Your funeral," Yura muttered as Viktor crouched down to peruse the offered charms.

* * *

Yuuri sighed as he set his broomstick next to Viktor's Firebolt Extreme. The Tengus were training harder than ever now, and he could feel his joints creak with every movement. He was just removing his muddy boots when something crashed into him, arms flying round his waist.

"Welcome home, _zvezdochka_ ~"

Yuuri blinked. The singsong tone was Viktor's, but the voice quality, the pitch – it was all wrong. It wasn't deep and smooth as velvet, full of affection and bordering on lascivious; this voice sounded too high, too young. The warm body wrapped around him also seemed a lot… smaller than he remembered.

"What do you think you're doing with my body, you moron!"

Yuuri's eyes widened. Slowly, he slid off his gloves. And then he scrubbed his eyes and blinked again. Silver hair that caught the lights _just so_ , sparkling blue eyes, and a beautiful, lithe frame. Yes, his weary mind processed after a good, long moment; that was most definitely his boyfriend standing at the front entrance, wearing an uncharacteristic scowl his face. Or, at least, his boyfriend's _body_.

So the person hugging him right now was –

Yura's elvish face gazed up at him, framed with sun kissed hair, and green eyes shimmering with adoration. (Yuuri barely held back a shudder.) "How was training, my love?"

* * *

"I don't see why I have to sit all the way over here," Yura – no, Viktor pouted.

"It's so you'd stop rubbing _my_ body on Yuuri," Yura huffed, crossing his arms – no, Viktor's arms.

After tugging out of Viktor's embrace, Yuuri had the two men sit with their backs to the wall while he allowed the new information to digest. As far as he knew, there were no Charm or Transfiguration spells that switched bodies. No potions, either. This had to be unusual magic – dark magic, most likely. A little experimentation certainly wouldn't be beneath two students of Durmstrang Institute.

Yuuri shot a glance at them, eyebrows knotting. Viktor was clumsy in Yura's body, unused to the diminished size and reach. Even now, he sat with his new set of gangly legs stretched out in front of him, bending and unfolding his knees.

"How do you get anywhere with these?" Viktor said in wonder.

Yura cuffed Viktor heavily across the head. "Are you calling me short?"

Unfazed, Viktor split Yura's face in a grin. "This is _your_ body, you realize."

"Then stop making me hit myself."

"You're the one hitting yourself."

"This is your fault. I told you not to get that stupid charm."

"But it—"

"Wait, charm?" Yuuri cut in. "What charm?"

"Idiot here," Yura jerked a thumb at his own body, "Bought some charm from a little ghost girl at the shopping arcade."

"A pair of love charms," Yura said with a shrug. From Yura's pocket, he pulled out a red talisman with the kanji for 'fate' embroidered in white across the front, a thick, white string tied in an elaborate knot at the top. "She said it'd ensure a happy marriage."

Yuuri frowned. A little ghost girl that sold charms? He had heard the rumors of a powerful witch handing out curses, but he didn't believe them to be true. "You said Viten'ka bought two," he pointed out. "Where's the other one?"

"With me." Yura dug into Viktor's pants pocket and revealed another talisman with the same exact design. "He gave it to me for a closer look and then… well." His face—Viktor's face—twisted in irritation, and Yuuri had to look away; it was too bizarre. "There better be a cure, nerd. There's no way I'm playing Quidditch in this lanky mess."

"You wouldn't make a good Seeker anyway," Viktor sniffed.

"And you'd be a shit Chaser."

"Okay." Yuuri cleared his throat before the two could launch into their usual bickering. "Our best bet is to find the little ghost girl again."

* * *

The girl was nowhere to be found.

Yura looked about ready to commit homicide, and it really wasn't a look Yuuri ever wanted to see on the love of his life.

"Yura, could you…" Yuuri floundered. "Your… your face…"

"Yes, you're being highly undignified," Viktor said, shaking his head.

Yura's—no, Viktor's— face turned a scarlet red. "I have – I have _school_ ," he spluttered, anger trampling over his grasp of the English language. "I have school and, and I am _not_ going back in there with this – this _imbecile_ 's body."

"I'm not pleased about training in this body, either." Viktor gave a smile that curved Yura's lips and eyes. "It's far too stumpy."

" _Stumpy_?"

"I do enjoy this new sensation of having to look up at you, though." The smile warmed as it turned to Yuuri, who tried his best not to look ill with unease. "I never realized how tall you were, _zvezdochka_."

"Would you stop calling him that with _my_ mouth?" Yura shrieked.

Viktor sharpened the expression on Yura's face. " _Zvezdochka_ , _mishka_ , my darling, my beloved, my sexy little—"

"Okay, that's it!"

"Otabek might enjoy being topped for once," Viktor managed, seconds before Yura tackled him to the ground with an extra scream of rage.

Yuuri pinched the bridge of his nose as the two men rolled across the concrete, limbs flailing and grappling at each other. The crowd flowed effortlessly around them, taking little heed of the scuffle. "Guys, this isn't helping…"

"Are they still fighting?" Yuuri started, whipping round to see the translucent figure of a little girl materializing out of thin air. She cocked her head, long strands of hair passing over slits of hazy eyes. "I thought the charms would have helped them resolve their differences."

Instinctively, Yuuri's hand dipped into his robes and clutched the end of his wand. Better safe than sorry. "Did you sell them the _enmusubi_?"

"Yeah." The eyes narrowed further. "Who are you? Are you the source of their marital conflict?"

"No, I'm, ah…" Yuuri threw a sidelong glance at the pair that was still wrestling on the ground. "I'm actually his boyfriend. The one with silver hair."

The girl gasped. "An affair?"

Ah, there must be some miscommunication of some kind.

"No, no, no." Yuuri waved a hand. "They're not… they're not married. They're not even dating. They're cousins and Yura, the blond one… he has a boyfriend."

"Oh." Her morose expression flickered as realization dawned. " _Oh_." She bit at the skin of her thumb, lips curling downwards. "I thought they were having relationship problems like my mom and dad…"

"They've always had relationship problems. Just not in the way you thought." Yuuri nodded toward the ongoing fight. "How would switching bodies resolve their conflict?"

"Empathy," she said, as though the single word explained everything. When Yuuri sported a puzzled look, she appended, "My mom said empathy means to step in someone else's shoes. So I thought they'd understand each other better if they were—"

"—literally in each other's shoes," Yuuri finished with a chuckle. The girl looked about seven years old; her intentions were kind and her logic was impeccable for that age. So much for the dark witch rumor. "Is it reversible?"

The girl nodded. "They just have to switch their charms."

Yuuri fought the urge to slap a palm across his forehead. Of course, it was that simple; why hadn't they thought of that?

"Are you going to stop them?" she asked, drifting to his side. "The silver one's pulling his own hair out."

Yura yanked at the silver strands, cackling manically, while Viktor slapped desperately at his own hands, yelping about premature baldness and _do you have any idea how hard I work to keep those roots in, you little devil_.

"I think they can both afford a little more empathy," said Yuuri.

* * *

Notes

I've set up a compiled list of requests on Tumblr dreaming-fireflies on my #drabbles and #list tags. Take a look if you're interested to see what's on the list.


	20. Petty Rivalry

_Author's Notes: For requests -_ **(1) _"_ Or even a harry potter short au where they're [Otayuri] both animagus"; (2) "I NEED THEM TO GO TO THAT CAT CAFE AND HAVE A CAT YOUKAI IN A MAID OUTFIT FLIRT WITH YURIO"; and (3) "Yuuri getting turned into a four year old because /magic/ and he has everbody wrapped in his pudgy little fingers"**

Or, Yuuri and Yurio taking their rivalry to petty heights lol. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Request (1):**

It felt exhilarating, running through the forest wild, and reckless, and utterly unrestrained. The night breeze caressed the grass and ruffled his fur, spurring him to go farther, faster, his feet pounding against the dirt. So this was what it felt like to be an animal – to succeed in an Animagus transformation. He paused to snuffle at the ground, seeking and scenting, before he bounded off in the direction of his target.

The boy was lying beneath a tree, an open book laid across his face, blond hair fanned out on the grass. Unguarded and innocent; so unlike his usual blustery self.

Lips pulling back in a fanged grin, he padded over silently.

And pressed his wet nose against a smooth cheek.

Instantly, the boy shot upwards, book falling to his lap. " _Aagh_ that's cold, you stupid—" Green eyes widened, before he scrambled up with his back against the tree trunk, a hand dipping for the wand in his jeans pocket. "What the _fuck_?"

He gave an amused growl, low and quiet. He knew it sounded similar to his original human form – similar enough to reveal his identity.

The boy paused, blinking several times. "…Beka?"

He let out a huff of acknowledgement.

"You – you – " The boy scrubbed a hand down his face. "You're a _bear_."

Chuckling, he morphed, and took the boy's hand in his. "Sorry it's not a tiger, Yura."

"No, bears are cool!" Yura shook his head. "Not as cool as tigers, but still pretty cool. And hey, _hey_!" He beamed, bright and brimming with delight. "You're an Animagus now!"

"I am." He pulled Yura close, eyes soft. "Want a ride through the forest?"

"Hell yeah." Yura jerked him down by the collar, brushing warm lips against his. "But I've got a better idea for tonight."

* * *

"Are you _quite_ sure there aren't any bears in Hasetsu?"

"Pretty sure," Yuuri's gentle laugh drifted in from the kitchen. "Why?"

Viktor stared as the bear reared onto its hind legs, flashing the white v-shaped mark sprawled across its dark fur. With a snarl, the beast bared its fangs, big and sharp and dripping.

"You might, ah, want to come to the front door, _zvezdochka_."

Still chuckling, Yuuri stepped out, wiping his hands on the corner of his apron. "Why, is there a bear at the—"

He paused. Stared. Rubbed his eyes and stared again.

There was a sudden movement, and Yura appeared by the bear's side, cackling. "Surprise, ne—"

" _Expulso_!"

The floor beneath the bear exploded in a flash of blue light, and the beast, along with a howling Yura, fell right through the gaping hole.

It was Viktor who broke the silence, clapping his hands to his cheeks. "My little star," he gushed, "Using Dark magic!"

"Uh," said Yuuri, still frozen, his wand pointing in the direction of the front door. "I thought the bear was attacking, but – but was that _Yura_?"

"Who knows," Viktor sighed happily. With several flicks of his wrist, he sent every piece of rubble and collapsed tile to their original spots until the floor looked good as new. "Now, you must tell me what other curses you've been hiding all these years…"

* * *

Lying prone on the hard floor, Otabek dropped a dusty palm to his forehead. "Should've just done the forest thing."

"Oh, shut up," Yura groaned on top of him.

* * *

 **Request (2):**

"How the hell is this a 'cat café'?"

Yuuri lowered his menu, eyes wide and innocent. "It's a café and it has cats."

Yura's face twisted in a dark scowl, the effect weakened by the rumbling noises coming from a waitress that was nuzzling his cheek. A waitress in a pink outfit with frills, ruffles, and lace, white-tipped ears flattened against her furry head.

"Mya-ster smells so~ good," the waitress purred and pressed closer to Yura, who shuddered violently.

"Would you just get _off_ me," Yura snapped, shoving down on the waitress's head. She clung to him, claws sinking into his shirt as the tail under her heavy skirt curled into a shape that looked suspiciously like a heart.

Yuuri hid his grin behind the edge of the menu; he had never seen cat _youkai_ this enthusiastic before. The last time he came with Viktor to The Feline, a café tucked in an inconspicuous corner of Akihabara, the cats had largely ignored their presence, keeping interactions to the bare minimum of taking orders and serving dishes, curtly and haphazardly. (Viktor had remarked, with some displeasure, that they should have visited the Puppy Playpen café two blocks down the street.)

"Did you douse yourself in catnip before coming here?" he asked.

Yura shot him a withering look. "No, asshole, I happened to play with my cats, my _real_ cats, before – _watch those paws_!"

The waitress giggled. "Ooh, you're so prickly, mya-ster, just the way I like it."

"This is payback for the bear prank, isn't it," Yura hissed when the cat _youkai_ grabbed his face and rubbed her whiskered cheek against his for the umpteenth time.

"The omelet rice is pretty good here," Yuuri said cheerily.

* * *

 **Request (3):**

There was a trace of Darkness in the apartment.

Viktor squashed the instinct to call for Yuuri; that would give his position away. Silently, stealthily, he closed the front door and glided through the living room, wand in hand. Wordless spells were less effective, less accurate in moments of danger, and there was a certain sense of satisfaction that came with blasting the target through a single, concentrated point.

The bedroom – the Darkness was emanating from the bedroom.

Viktor clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply through his nose. If anyone—any _thing_ —had dared to hurt his little star…

Backing up against the wall, he stuck his head round the door frame.

The room was empty. Save for a mound of clothes on top of the bed that looked like Yuuri's red Quidditch robes and – _it was moving._ Rising and falling as though something live and solid was breathing underneath.

Right, thought Viktor. It may well be a harmless Japanese magical creature that had snuck into their apartment, just like the little _zashiki-warashi_ that had taken residence in the pantry, playing in their powdered goods and leaving little flour footprints all over their condiment bottles.

Either that, or a Dark creature giving off trace amounts of magic in the apartment.

Wand sparking at the tip, Viktor crept to the bed and reached out, gingerly lifting a corner of the thick fabric.

It wasn't a Dark creature, he realized.

It wasn't a _creature_ , period.

The living thing turned out to be none other Yuuri, his little star – shrunk down to about a third of his size, his knees curled into a round chest, chubby cheeks pressed into the sheets. "Mm, Viten'ka," he murmured in a pitch that was octaves higher than his normal voice, eyes screwed tight, button nose wrinkling. "Five more minutes…"

Viktor's heart squeezed so hard that he could hardly breathe.

Mama Katsuki's muggle photographs had not prepared him for this much cute.

* * *

"A cursed stone!?"

Yuuri puffed his little chest out, cheeks reddening in indignation. Even with the smallest sweater Viktor could find, Yuuri's child form was drowning in knitted wool: his head barely poked out of the wide collar, ends of the sweater trailing across the floor.

Viktor wasn't sure whether to comfort his lover or weep at the adorable image.

"Typically, it's used to repair old objects by returning them to their former state, like rusty knives or worn-down shoes," he elected to elaborate instead. "But to put it in a bracelet and use the curse on a _person_ , well…" He gestured at Yuuri, up and down. "I suppose you could call that your 'former state'."

Yuuri yanked a sleeve up and jiggled the bracelet on his wrist until the sleeve slipped back down, dangling inches above the floor. "Yura," he said fiercely. "Yura gave this to me yesterday. He said it was a good luck charm."

"Its Dark magic is fairly weak," Viktor reassured, just as he took Yuuri's arm— _ahh_ , so, so _tiny_ —and slid the accessory off. "Once you stop wearing it, the effects shouldn't last for more than a day."

Yuuri's bottom lip wibbled. _Wibbled_. "So I have to stay like this for a whole day?"

"I won't leave your side," said Viktor, tugging Yuuri close. "We'll ride it out together."

Even if it meant an early death from excessive cute.

Yuuri sniffled, pudgy fingers clinging to the material of Viktor's sweater. "Wha' 'bout practice with the Sirins?"

"Hmm," said Viktor, a finger on his lips.

* * *

"Aren't you just a tiny little _darling_ ," Mila squealed, crushing Yuuri's face into her chest.

"I, I'm still an adult in my head," Yuuri stammered, his voice muffled by fabric.

"A _tiny_ adult," Mila tittered, her grip tightening. Yuuri let out a noise that sounded like a squeak.

"He needs to breathe, Mila," Viktor pointed out lightly.

"Fascinating," Georgi mumbled, leaning in to peer at Yuuri, whose forehead burned a deep, scarlet red. "I had no idea a cursed obsidian stone could cause regression of such nature."

"Oi," Yura shouted from somewhere above them. "Are any of you idiots actually going to _practice_ today?"

"Only if I get to have Yuuri with me," said Mila, before she whirled round to flutter long eyelashes at Viktor. "You approve, yes? I promise to keep him safe!"

"I'd say it's up to Yuuri," Viktor replied, eyes twinkling with amusement.

Yuuri pushed out of Mila's embrace, shaking his head wildly. "I…" Big, brown eyes grew bright and wet. "I wanna stay with Viten'ka…"

"He rides with me," Viktor said, sweeping Yuuri instantly into his arms and marching into the pitch without pause.

"Vitya's going to spoil their kids rotten," Mila noted. Viktor was holding the broom steady for Yuuri to swing a short leg over, his gaze filled with unadulterated adoration.

"Indeed." Georgi smiled, folding his arms. "Especially if they look anything like Katsuki."

"Not much of a prank if the nerd's going to look _that_ cute," Yura muttered.

* * *

Viktor didn't know how he had survived the day.

The more Yuuri grew accustomed to his new body, the more adorable he became. The awkward stumbling of an adult on shorter, chubbier legs gradually turned into the tottering gait of a young child. The determined stretch for a now unreachable object became a tug or two on Viktor's pants leg, a gaze of warm chocolate, and a quiet _can you get that for me_ , _Viten'ka?_ And a simple expression of happiness had turned into the lethal combination of curved, crescent-moon eyes, rosy cheeks, and an unfettered bout of giggles, warm and bubbly and pure.

Even now, Yuuri was sitting on the living room floor with his little legs spread apart, rocking back and forth as he chatted with Phichit on the peculiar muggle object he called a 'lap-top' – a picture of endearing innocence.

"Aw, you're just as cute as I remember," Phichit laughed, and Viktor felt a slight twinge in his stomach. How silly; of course Phichit would have seen Yuuri as a child. They had been best friends for years.

"I don't like it," Yuuri huffed. "I have to ask Viten'ka for help all the time, and I think he's getting really tired—"

"No, I'm not," Viktor called.

"He's being sweet," Yuuri murmured after a beat, the fondness in his voice making Viktor's heart trip joyfully down his ribs.

"Not to downplay Viktor's affections, but have you looked in a mirror?" said Phichit, tinged with mirth. "Only a psychopath would say no to that face." He paused. "Or Mari."

"I just can't believe Yura would do this!" Yuuri threw up his arms, sleeves flapping. "It's so… so… _childish_."

Phichit made a contemplative humming sound. "Do you still have the bracelet?"

"We kept it in a box. Why?"

"Viktor's going to want to hear this," said Phichit, his voice dripping with wicked glee.

* * *

Otabek opened his door –

– to absolutely nothing.

"Down here," snapped a voice that was oddly familiar and a little too high.

He glanced down to find Yura, practically swimming in his Quidditch robes, his little face contorted in fury.

"Cursed bracelet?" Otabek asked simply.

"This isn't over," Yura snarled as he brushed past Otabek and stormed into the apartment with the resolve of a soldier striding into battle.

Otabek closed the door, chuckling. Knowing the two Yuri's, this was never going to be over.

* * *

Notes

I've set up a compiled list of requests on Tumblr dreaming-fireflies on my #drabbles and #list tags. Take a look if you're interested to see what's on the list.


	21. Inappropriate

_Author's Notes: For requests -_ **(1) May I put in a request for a story about a Quidditch match between Viktor and Yuuri's teams? I'd love to see their interactions during a game :)** and **(2) Would you mind writing a NSFW Entwining Fates Drabble with Yuuri topping maybe? Or using toys or roleplay? Something cute but smutty, maybe with beggin from Victores side?**

NSFW, if the second request doesn't make that obvious already. ;) Written up quick and dirty. Apologies for any errors, for the lateness, and also for making Yuuri more of a power-bottom here than a top, eheh. I hope you'll still enjoy nonetheless!

* * *

 **Request (1):**

Captain Nagase wasn't pleased to find out that the Tengus would be playing against the Siberian Sirins in their next League match. It may have had something to do with the Sirins's undisputed championship victories for the past two tournaments. It may have had something to do with the Tengu members' stance as wide-eyed, adoring fans of the Sirins team, despite the Toyohashi Tengus having a much longer legacy in the League. It most certainly had something to do with his best Chaser being married to the Sirins's world-class celebrity Seeker.

Captain Nagase liked Katsuki. He had absolutely nothing against Katsuki. In fact, Katsuki Yuuri was a good man and an even better Quidditch player. He was hardworking, dedicated, tenacious, and on top of that, possessed all the raw talent needed to truly excel as a national player.

But Captain Nagase did take issue with Katsuki actively engaging in Nikiforov's outrageous flirting on the pitch.

In the middle of a game.

He would have to sit Katsuki down for a long talk about focus and propriety, and the very thought felt a thousand times worse than giving his own children a talk about the birds and the bees. _No flirting on the pitch. No kissing on the pitch. More importantly, Nikiforov is an opponent on the pitch, not your bloody partner._ It was a strange, uncomfortable conversation that he never imagined he would have with another adult.

The tent flap flipped open to reveal Katsuki, blinking innocently behind his glasses. "Did you ask for me, captain?"

Captain Nagase kneaded his forehead with a sigh. Go time.

"Have a seat, Katsuki."

#

Yuuri tried; he really did.

"Oh, that bend you just did, _zvezdochka_ …" Viktor lined up beside Yuuri, voice dipping low. "I'm thinking of so many ways you could use that in the bedroom…"

 _Ignore him_ , thought Yuuri. Players zipped by them, the passing breeze ruffling their hair and cloaks. _Ignore him._

His eyes flicked over, noting how Viktor's hair caught the light and shimmered under the sun, how his eyes sparkled deeper and bluer than the sky around them, how his lips curved ever so slightly, a soft, pink bow.

 _Oh hell._

"I already have," Yuuri whispered. He tugged Viktor's elbow and pressed up against his side, spinning them both around to avoid a Bludger.

"When," Viktor gasped, unfazed by the sudden move.

"Well—"

"Eyes on the Quaffle, Katsuki," the Tengu captain bellowed.

Yuuri blushed. "I'm not allowed to talk to you right now," he told Viktor apologetically.

"Later then, my love." Grinning, Viktor stole a kiss from Yuuri's lips and darted off.

Yuuri breathed in deep. Noting a flash of pink in the corner of his eye, he shot past Georgi, circled Mila, and caught a perfect curved pass from his teammate.

The back of his ear tingled, soft and light, as Viktor gave a loud whoop of delight from a distance.

And when Viktor caught the Snitch later, as he always did, Yuuri cheered along with the crowd.

The Tengu captain slapped a hand to his forehead.

Yuuri tried; he really did.

But it was so much more fun this way.

* * *

 **Request (2):**

"God, Yuuri – _Yuuri_ – "

"Shhh. I know, Viten'ka. I know." Yuuri breathed as he lowered himself onto Viktor, relishing in the slow burn, the familiar thickness. He heard Viktor keen, felt the muscles flex beneath his hands.

It wasn't often that Yuuri took charge during their lovemaking, but he made certain to thoroughly and utterly drive Viktor mad when he did. Like binding Viktor's wrists to the headboard with a swift mutter of _Incarcerous_ , for a start. And blindfolding the Russian for another. And then ignoring Viktor's repeated pleas as he pressed his mouth and tongue on Viktor's neck, shoulder, and chest. Moved down, down, down, licking and biting every inch of the smooth, ivory skin.

"Let me touch you," Viktor panted, straining against the ropes. "Let me – _blyad'_ – !" He arched off the sheets, a perfect bow, when Yuuri's lips wrapped around his cock.

Yuuri wouldn't let him come, of course. Dragged him close—so, so close to the edge—and then pulled away at the very last minute.

Viktor was a wreck by then, squirming and begging for a chance to see, to feel, to _please, please let me go._

That was when Yuuri, slick and prepared, sank down, his legs spread apart, taking Viktor in inch by agonizing inch. The frills from his lacy skirt caressed Viktor's thighs – a reminder of the cosplay outfit that started this whole thing in the first place.

It was a gift from Christophe and Phichit for their wedding anniversary. A nestle of ruffles and frills and lace, topped with a little signed card that read in elegant cursive, _For the naughty maid inside._ Yuuri really wasn't sure when he donned the costume. (He _really_ didn't want to know how his friends knew his size.)

But all of his uncertainty evaporated the second Viktor stepped through the front door and laid eyes on him. Eyes that bulged almost comically while Yuuri fumbled through the words— _Welcome home, Master; w-would you like dinner, or a bath, or, um_ —before the Russian swept Yuuri off his feet and carried him straight into the bedroom without uttering a single word.

Viktor's head was tossing about, hips twitching, stilled only by Yuuri's hand. Dying to move but afraid to hurt. "Yuuri, please—" he choked when Yuuri rolled his hips experimentally, up and down, "Please, I want to see you."

Yuuri laughed, a soft huff. Payback for all the times Viktor had teased him, left him hanging off the edge by a string as he begged and cried for release. Reaching up, he tugged the silk fabric off, before he leaned back on his hands and raised his body just enough for a clear view of Viktor's cock half-buried in his ass. Of his own hard cock lifting the edge of his short skirt, bobbing lewdly against his stomach.

Of his mouth falling open in a long, drawn out moan when he slammed back down.

Viktor bucked up with a whine. He began to chant Yuuri's name with each slide, like a mantra, a prayer. Worshipful, reverent, adoring.

 _Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri._

 _So beautiful, so tight._

 _So, so perfect._

Yuuri curled backwards as he dropped down again, skin meeting skin. Every brush against his prostate, every strike, had him shaking and panting and moaning. And he knew all too well that Viktor was enjoying the show.

Indeed, his lover was chuckling now, his eyes locked squarely onto Yuuri's. Blue as ever. "Mmh, _moya_ _zvezdochka_ , my little star, my naughty little _porn_ star…" Yuuri clenched admonishingly around him, and he released a harsh exhale. "Ahhh, _yes_ , just like that." Another breathless chuckle. "Now – now don't you think it's time you let your 'master' touch you?"

Yuuri rolled up to fit his mouth against Viktor's, slow and languid. "What makes you think you get to give orders?" he murmured, his breath hot on Viktor's jaw.

"Two words," Viktor breathed. "Nonverbal spells."

Without warning, the ropes snapped, and Yuuri was thrown back onto the mattress with a squeal.

"No fair," Yuuri giggled as Viktor peppered feathery kisses over his face; smoothed a searing path up his thighs. "That's _cheating_."

"You can punish me later," Viktor purred, pressing Yuuri's knees to his chest, practically folding him in half. His skirt fell, exposing, baring him. Spread open for the world to see.

Yuuri barely managed a blush before Viktor drove back in, ramming hard against his prostate, over and over and over again. Steady and regular as a heartbeat.

"Ah, _ahh_ —" Yuuri's head fell back. Felt good, so good. There was something about the way Viktor handled him in bed – rough yet gentle, both at the same time. "Why," his breath hitched, back rising into one really strong thrust, "Why didn't you just do that from the start?"

"Because I love it when you take the lead," Viktor mumbled. The nails in Yuuri's thighs dug in deeper, harder. "Because I love it when you leave me dangling for more." He let a hand skitter away, across Yuuri's abs, and then down. Yuuri swallowed, his cock jumping as the long fingers offered a light, teasing brush. "Because I love it so much more when I can _feel_ you come apart in my arms at the very end."

And then he gripped the base with a sweat-slicked palm, tight and hot, stroking up with an expert twist of his wrist.

It was all too fast, too much. Instantly, Yuuri saw white, his body shuddering with lightning-soaked pleasure. Some part of his oxygen-deprived brain caught the glimpse of smugness on Viktor's face, but he was too damn blissed out to care.

Especially not with Viktor fucking him through his orgasm, the overstimulation sending aftershocks through his body. Murmuring Russian into bare skin, Viktor kept rocking until he finally came, driving in as deeply as he could and shaking with his release.

There were a few moments of panting, Viktor stretched out atop Yuuri, warm and heavy and comforting.

Then, muffled in his shoulder, "What are the chances of you wearing that to my birthday party next month?"

Yuuri shook with laughter. "Yura will kill you."

Viktor's lips curved on him. "Not if you kill me first. I was that close to a heart attack."

"The great Durmstrang alumnus and Sirins Seeker, felled by a maid outfit."

"Not the outfit." Viktor nipped at Yuuri. "The maid." Lips pressed, wet and warm, against the skin beneath Yuuri's ear. " _My_ maid."

Yuuri shivered; he could feel himself growing hard again. Could feel Viktor hardening inside him. One round never was enough for them. "Viten'ka…"

"I know, _moya_ _zvezdochka_ ," Viktor crooned. Yuuri sighed, legs wrapping round Viktor's waist as his husband began to move again. Slowly. Steadily. Lovingly. "I know."

* * *

Notes

I've set up a compiled list of requests on Tumblr dreaming-fireflies on my #drabbles and #list tags. Take a look if you're interested to see what's on the list.


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